


Shooting and Falling

by GranolaPerks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate universe - Mafia, Bodyguard! Dean, Character Death, Crime, Gangs, Gen, Lifeguard! Dean, M/M, Mafia! Cas, Other, Russian Mafia, Substance Abuse, Violence, alternate universe - lifeguard, crime lord, mafia, more characters will be added, potential:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:09:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 59,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GranolaPerks/pseuds/GranolaPerks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a lifeguard on duty at a beach, when Castiel Novak, the only son of the crime lord Viktor Novak, is kidnapped. Saving Castiel is just the start of Dean's new and hectic life, as the only way for him to stay alive is to accept protection offered by the Novaks. Close quarters and sexual tension lead to an interesting experience for all involved, but will feelings shared between two unlikely lovers in a world where attachments aren't recommended leave them heartbroken and alone?</p><p>“Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets.”<br/>- Arthur Miller</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As a forewarning, Castiel's speech is supposed to be... incorrect, so if you see weird or missing words in his dialogue, it's supposed to be that way. If it gets too confusing or irritating, let me know, and I'll make sure to forego it in future chapters.

 

* * *

"How much longer do I have?"

The palm of his hand dug into his cheek, the boiling sun stinging his skin, but Dean Winchester couldn't leave his stand. The beach was crowded, children and adults alike running back and forth across the sand, the thinning waves of the ocean splashing up on them, making them scream as though they were being killed despite the fact that the only thing being murdered was Dean's sanity.

"About 40 minutes, maybe a little less," a scratchy voice replied from Dean's side. He looked over to the rectangular box, reaching out to press in the ribbed button on the side.

"Fuck that! I'm done now."

A child smacked into one of the faded-white legs of his stand, startling Dean. He stood up to look over the edge at the child, who brushed his legs up as he stood and continued running back to who Dean assumed to be his parents. He shrugged and sat back down.

"Sit your ass down, Winchester. I sign your paycheck. You have to listen to me."

"You don't sign my paycheck," Dean replied, eyes scanning over the beach and the water near it. "You just give it to me 'cause I hate going in to the office to get it."

"Well, you still have to listen to me. Sit down."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I needed to check if this kid was okay. The little shit just ran into my stand."

The voice on the other end didn't respond for a minute. "Dude, what the fuck? Don't lie."

"Why would I lie about a kid hitting my stand?"

"'Cause a kid hit mine, like, five minutes ago and another one did like, 30 seconds ago."

"What the hell? That's fucking- What the fuck?" Dean stood up to look down, another kid smacking in to his stand. Dean blinked down at the little guy. He snapped his fingers. "Hey! Yo! Dude." The kid looked up. "What are you doing?"

"Running?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you're the second kid who's slammed in to that thing. Wanna run somewhere else, chief?"

"I'm not supposed to. I'm supposed to run through here."

"Supposed to?" Dean asked with disbelief, looking out at the beach, scanning it before looking back to the kid.

"Uh-huh. Supposed to."

"Says who?"

"That gu-" The kid looked back to point out the man, but nobody was there. "I don't know where he went, but he gave me twenty bucks to do this."

"To run in to the stand?"

"He said distract you, and that other kid did it, and it looked like it worked."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Get out of here, kid."

The kid darted off, and Dean sat back down. The little shit had done his job, distracting him well enough that he remained that way even after the little man had run away, the thought of why, and for what, Dean would need to be distracted for constantly running through his mind.

He was focused out on the outer barriers of his area, so much so that he was shocked out of his watch by his replacement guard showing up. Dean looked back at her. "You're early."

"I'm supposed to be here fifteen minutes before shift. Something you wouldn't know."

"You all love me."

"You do make the job interesting," she responded, stepping in to the small box of a room behind Dean. She perched herself up on the flat wooden rail when she came back out. "Anything weird going on today?"

Dean glanced over at her. "Yeah, actually. A bunch of kids were smacking into me and Mitchell's stands. Why d'ya ask?"

"There was this huge wreck I had to get by on the way in, right on the corner for the beach road entrance. It was a mess. Apparently they're looking for this guy who was forcibly removed from the car he was in. I mean, there were claw and scratch marks all over everything. They don't know if it actually was him, but the car belongs to one of those, like, crime families, and their only son's been missing all day. And I guess that the suspects of who took him are like, their rivals, because the car that hit him belongs to, well, their rivals."

"Which family? I know the Novak's have a son, but don't they have more kids?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Five daughters. He's the baby of the family and the only boy."

"Why would they be after him? And which family?"

"When you're the one-of-a-kind son of a powerful family, you're worth quite a lot. And I'm not sure, they didn't tell me. I'm thinking the Matveev's. At least that's the name I heard the most of."

Dean nodded. "Have they checked the shoreline yet?"

She shook her head. "No. Well, not really. They didn't think the kidnappers would be dumb enough to take them to a public beach.

"Then I'm gonna go check out the private beach when I'm done here, alright?" Her eyes grew wide and he explained farther. "I don't think I'll see anything, but one of those kids pointed that way when I asked him what the fuck he was doing. Said some guy sent him to distract us."

"Only two of them came?"

"I guess. But I wanna see if I can figure out what's going on."

"You can go now," she shrugged, hopping down from her perch. "I don't mind taking over."

"You sure?"

"It's only, like, five minutes, Dean." She pushed him, trying to get him out of the chair. "I really don't mind."

"If you're sure," Dean responded, standing and handing off black strap around him like a sash, the end connected to a red float-tube.

Dean hopped off of the stand, foregoing the steps, landing in a pile of sand. The woman laughed, looking down over the edge at him. "Be safe alright? I don't think you'll see anything out there, but still… Just… be safe."

Dean nodded up at her, sending her a salute before putting on his sandals, which had slid off his feet in the pile of sand, and moved on.

It was about a quarter mile to the sand-and-reed barrier that formed a sort of fence around the private area of the beach. Dean always loved walking over here because it reminded him of back home, when his father would take him and his brother out to the coast of Maine, and the reeds and grass nestled in the sand between flat stones fit perfectly with all of the lighthouses always donning the beaches they visited. This small section of beach sent him back to a time where he never had to worry, and he loved it.

But he was not in a loving mood now.

Quickly ducking behind a patch of reeds, Dean watched as two men dragged a third shirtless one along the beach, their arms looped under his armpits, the middle man thrashing and yelling, though his shouts were muffled by what looked like a light grey t-shirt shoved uncomfortably in to his mouth. Just the thought of something that large shoved in to his mouth made Dean want to throw up, but he pushed the though aside as the man continued to struggle, shoulders smashing from side to side, his feet only coming up from the deep lines they were digging in the sand when he kicked hard to give himself more power in trying to escape.

It never worked.

Dean was unsure on what to do, and after a quick pat of his pocket for his cellphone, which was gone, he was at even more of a loss. The man was still struggling, and the other two had managed to bring him to the water.

That's when they switched. One of the men moved behind The Struggler, barring his arms between his own while the other stepped forward, kicking the man in the stomach before punching his face. The man let out a scream that Dean could hear clearly, even though he was muffled, and after another few kicks and punches, it became apparent what they were going to do to him.

Dean felt the bile roll up in his stomach.

He could only launch himself into acton once they began pushing The Struggler under the shallow water, sandy marshes pooling up around his body as he struggled against their strength. They pulled him up for a moment, his hair pressed flat to his face and neck. He took a gasping breath, barely able to close his mouth by the time they were forcing him back under.

With the largest stone he could find clutched in his hands, Dean was running forward, sneaking up to them the best he could. He was lucky that when he closed up on them, they were distracted, the one holding The Struggler under, the other kicking him in his stomach, trying to get him to let out the air in his body.

Dean smacked the one holding The Struggler under. In the head. With his rock.

The man yelped and let go of the one underwater, turning on Dean. Dean had hit him hard enough to break the skin, a thin line of blood coming from his hair, dripping down his neck proving just how much damage he'd done.

The man growled and lunged at Dean, and Dean swung at him with the rock again. The man knocked him in to the water, but the rock had left another significant blow. When Dean popped his head back out of the water, he saw The Struggler running away, back to where he had been dragged from.

 _Fuck_.

The man Dean had attacked was recovering from the second blow, and Dean figured it was as good a time as ever to throw his rock, hitting them man square in the temple, hard enough to send him flying back. Dean watched at the man fell, and he looked back to where The Struggler had run off to. No sign of him anywhere, aside from his original foot trenches, and his fresh new footprints leading off into the reeds.

Dean pushed himself up to his feet in the slightly-below knee-deep water, and began to run. The man he had attacked initially was face-up in the water though not moving, but the man The Struggler had been left with was just returning from halfway up the beach, clearly giving up on chasing The Struggler any farther than he already had.

He had his sights set on Dean.

Dean began to run, his sand-slick feet causing him to slide with every step, the loose sand now a detriment to him, his wet feet sinking in to the sand making his running time slower, while the other moved easily across the dunes. It had become slightly easier when Dean shucked his sandals off, but even then, it did nothing to distance himself from the man chasing him, who tackled him down to the ground in a plume of sand that flew up and coated the sides of their bodies and the back of the man pinning Dean to the ground.

Dean let out an anguished groan as the man on top of him rolled off, flipping Dean from his stomach to his back. He hopped back on top of him, straddling his hips, feet hooking in a way around Dean's legs to prevent him from kicking too much. The man leaned forward, pressing his thumbs to Dean's throat as he pressed down hard, closing Dean's airway.

Dean began to struggle, shoulders shimmying, arms thrashing, and legs kicking to the best of their ability despite the fact that it did nothing of use to deter the man, who just continued to press on his throat.

"Don't. Kill. Me," Dean gasped out in a final plead, knowing it was pretty much useless.

"Loose lips sink ships."

Dean sucking in whatever meager breath he could manage. The man just pressed down harder. "I don't. Know. Anything. I'll. Be qui- et."

"Better to tie up loose ends."

Dean could feel his last breath being dragged away from him, his lungs screaming for air, but every gasp he attempted didn't bring anything in, only let it out. No amount of breath and strength training could have prepared him for this. His head began pounding, and he closed his eyes briefly, hoping to calm it.

Nothing happened.

Something was shifting to his side, but he refused to open his eyes until he felt his last moment coming up. He knew he'd black out before he died, and he wanted to see the world one last time.

He was not expecting what he saw.

When his eyes broke open, a large bang echoed around the beach, ringing in his ears for a moment, though he couldn't tell if it was from the shot, or the lack of oxygen in his brain, but then the man atop him loosened his hold, and blood spilled down the side of his head, curling around his ear in a loop, a wobbly line racing down his neck. He fell over and off of Dean's hips, and Dean rolled away, laying on his back, staring at the sun through squinted eyes as he tried to gulp down deep breaths, his lungs protesting to every movement.

His body was screaming but he continued to gasp in breaths, only stopping when a body was dropping down on to his hips. He let out a breathy shout. "No, god," he sobbed, his eyes squinted hard. "Just let me go. Don't kill me."

"I'm not killing you," the voice said, and it was gravelly and deep, but more gentle than the other man's. "Yet."

Dean blinked his eyes open. The Struggler was above him, bright and startling blue eyes piercing in to him, his half-wet hair pointing in every direction. The man's jaw was hard and well defined, and he was holding a gun steadily at Dean's head.

Dean's eyes went wide. "I thought you weren't going to kill me!?"

"Yet." Dean squeezed his eyes shut and the man continued. "Why did you come out here?"

Dean coughed. "Shouldn't you be grateful I did?"

Struggler cocked the gun. "Why did you come out here?"

"Oh god," Dean whined, squeezing his eyes tighter for a moment before cracking one open. "I heard someone, I'm assuming you, was taken from their car in this area. I just wanted to make sure something wasn't happening out here."

Then man stared down at him, never blinking, seemingly lost in thought. "What family are you from?"

"I-what?"

The man shoved his gun against Dean's head. "What family are you from?"

"Oh- god! Jesus christ!" Dean gasped. "Uhhh, Winchester, I guess. Winchester."

"Never heard of you."

"Yeah, well, we're not exactly a crime family."

A hand was shoved against Dean's neck, causing his eyes to fly open even though it wasn't cutting off his air flow. "And who said that my family is in the crimes?"

"Well, you kinda have a loaded gun pointed at my head right now…"

Struggler seemed to contemplate that, and removed the gun from Dean's skull, sliding his hand back from his neck. He finally blinked. "Where's the other man?"

"What other man?" Dean asked, slamming his head back into the sand, relaxing his neck.

"The other man! Other man! You know, one trying to kill me?"

"He should still be in the water."

The man got up, and Dean watched him walk away. He was young, maybe only a year or two off from Dean. Two older, Dean recalled, should he be the Novak's son. He waded through the water, walking slowly up and down the narrow stretch of beach in his already soaked shoes.

He looked like a punk, Dean though to himself. Dark, mused hair, slightly big t-shirt, dark jeans that fit him nicely, canvas shoes, and a previously empty thigh holster, one that probably held the gun he had in his hands. His golden rings were the only thing that gave him away, making the twenty-something look more menacing, if that were possible. His piercing eyes and strict face did the job for him.

The man let out an aggravated shout, shooting down at something in the water before he stalked over to Dean, who had sat up, resting back on his hands.

"Get up," he said, still walking toward Dean, his gun pointed at him. "Get up!" he repeated when Dean sat in the sand, staring up at him. Dean scurried up to his feet, sliding in the sand, kicking plumes of it in to the air as he got up. He held up his hands as the gun was cocked once again, walking backwards and away from the man. "Why you let him go? Huh? Why?"

Dean shook his head. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Kill him."

"With what? My bare hands!?"

"Whatever it takes.  _Always_ kill enemy."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "And how do you know what side I'm on? I mean, who said he's my enemy? What if  _you_ are?" Dean crossed his arms with a satisfied smirk.

The man pointed his gun at him with a roll of his eyes.

"You're not my enemy."

"Good," the man replied, dropping his gun as he began to walk down the beach and away from civilization. "Come on."

Dean remained where he stood. "What?"

"Come on," the man said a bit louder as he continued to walk. "Come with."

"No."

Struggler stopped, turning, pointing his gun at him again.

"Oh come on!" Dean whined, following after the man against his will. "You know, you can't just point your gun at me to get me to do whatever you want."

"Yes I can."

Dean groaned. "Can I at least go back and get my sandals?" He looked back over his shoulder at the slowly disappearing public beach, a sense of worry flooding his body. What was happening?

"No."

They walked along the beach until they came to a deserted pier, the only thing on it being a bank of telephone booths at the end of it. The man went to the center one out of the five, calling someone, muttering words in what Dean could only assume was Russian, based on his accent.

He decided he needed to ask about that.

"You Russian or something?" he asked when the man came over, sitting across from him. Dean had his back resting on the fencing put up, his legs splayed out on the ground as he looked at the man through slightly squinted eyes.

"Why you want to know?"

"Your accent-"

"I have no accent."

"-and you kinda leave out words sometimes."

Struggler held up his gun again, and Dean rolled his eyes with a groan. "God! You have  _got_ to get ahold of that thing, man. You're like the boy who cried wolf, for fuck sake."

"Boy who cried wolf?"

Dean stared at him. "Yeah. You know, like the story?" The man was staring at him with a hint of distrust and confusion so Dean explained. "This guy, a shepherd, or sheep-watcher, was meant to call wolf if a wolf came to eat the sheep. He kept saying wolf for no reason, just as a joke, so the one time a wolf actually showed up, he fucked all of the sheep over because nobody believed him when he said there was one there."

"So the wolf ate the sheep?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

The man smirked. "I like the sound of that wolf."

"You completely missed the point of that story."

"No," the man said. "The wolf smart, and cunning. He waited for perfect chance to take sheep. He knew the boy had been lying about him coming, so when he show up, there wasn't a damn thing boy could do, and so wolf got sheep, and got away free wolf. Wolf  _very_  smart."

"Never thought of it that way," Dean said, leaning forward a bit.

"Because you not  _very_  smart. You boy. Or in this case, sheep. I am wolf."

"Because you tricked me, or because you stole me away, and probably won't be caught for it?"

"Because I'm smarter than you." The man laughed a deep and round laugh, eyes crinkling at the edge. "I like you, Winchester."

"What'd I say?"

Struggler laughed again, and looked out at the sea. He stared long and hard, and Dean eventually turned to look out at the water as well.

A boat was making its way quickly across the large and choppy waves, and when it got closer, the man stood up, grabbing on to Dean's shoulder as he climbed over the edge of the fencing, his feet barely balancing on the small ledge on the outside. He looked at Dean. "Join me."

Dean did, his knees weak and wobbly as he tried to balance himself. They weren't extremely high, but the boat was coming toward them, barely slowing down, and a sick feeling rolled in to Dean's stomach. "Are we jumping?"

"In to boat, yes."

"What!?" Dean asked, eyes comically wide as he turned to the man who was calm and balancing just fine, one arm holding on to the railing, the other out to steady Dean.

"Yes. I tell you when to jump."

"Wait, what? How do you know it's safe?"

"It's not."

Dean stared at the man, lips parted open in shock at what he'd have to do. "I'm not jumping."

"Yes you are."

"No."

"I need my gun?"

"No."

"Then you jump."

The boat was coming closer, and Dean's heart was racing.

"I'm not jumping."

"Yes you are."

"No!"

"Yes."

"No-"

"Jump!"

The boat was nearly under them, and Dean didn't have a choice to stay behind anymore as Struggler had pulled him forward as he jumped. Dean yelled as he was airborne, but the man still remained calm. It was a short fall, but it felt like a year to Dean, time moving in slow motion as the uncertainty of what they'd just done washed over him, and he only snapped out of his daze when his feet hit the solid base of the boat, a shock rolling up from his soles through his knees, ending at his hips.

The man next to him reached out, grabbing his arm as Dean began to fall forward, pulling him back upright and down into one of the seats. Struggler sat down from him. "See? Not so bad."

"Not so bad? Not so bad!? That was terrifying!"

"But fun, right?" Struggler laughed. He reached back into the built in cooler, cheering quietly as he pulled out two bears. He broke the tops off of both bottle, offering one to Dean.

"Oh, no. I'm too young."

"Me too," the man said, taking a swig of his drink.

Dean hesitated, but Struggler waved the bottle, and soon he was reaching forward to take it. He was cautious as he drank from it, but he found the sweet taste to be just fine, and he was able to take normal gulps from it in a matter of minutes.

The man offered him another bottle, and Dean took it, finishing it about the time the pulled up to a dock. Struggler and Dean stood, the only difference being that the driver of the boat now had his hand on Dean's wrists, pulling them together behind his back as he snapped a pair of handcuffs on him, pushing him forward.

"Hey!" Dean yelped, unhappy with how he was being treated, and even more confused at the same thing. "What's this about?"

"Precautions," Struggler said, and the boat driver pushed him out of the boat and on to the dock. The man walked slightly ahead of him, guiding him up the shallow path to the secluded building they'd landed in front of.

"Where are we?" Dean asked as they walked in to the building, large doorways looming overhead, passing slowly as they walked through them, emerging in a large foyer, reminiscent of nothing the outside looked like.

The room was bathed in a round bronze light, burgundy flooring matching the light colored stone the walls were. A large chandelier hung int he center of it all, and it looked as though just one arm of the enormous light could hold Dean easily. There was a wide stairway that led up to what looked like another room similar to the one they were in now, but they passed it up, going in to yet another room, taking the slimmer staircase in there.

The boat driver had fallen behind the two of them, and Struggler led the way. The landing they hit led into a hallway with three doors, two of them leading to side-rooms connected to the main one right in front of them.

"Where are we?" Dean asked again.

"My home," Struggler said, pushing in to the main room.

A man was sitting at a large, burgundy colored desk that matched the floor filling the room. It sat on top of a rug that matched the walls, which were still made of the stone from downstairs, though darker and more brown than before. The man sat in a chair with a wide back, a phone pressed to his ear.

Angry sounding strains of what Dean once again assumed to be Russian flowed from his lips. The man was a bit pudgy, but Dean didn't realize how tall he was until the man caught sight of Struggler and slammed the phone down, pushing himself up and away from his desk.

"Castiel! My son." The man walked up to Struggler, now Castiel in Dean's mind, and hugged him close. Castiel wrapped his arms around him in return, and they shared a tight embrace while Dean stood off to the side and behind them, not saying a word.

The man broke the hug with his son, looking over his shoulder at Dean. He narrowed his eyes. "Who is he? Why is he cuffed? Was he the one who took you?" The man had broken from his son, walking over to Dean, pulling out and cocking his gun, aiming at Dean.

"That's where he gets it from," Dean whispered under his breath.

"What?" the man asked, pressing his gun to Dean's head. Dean squeezed his eyes shut.

"No! Dad! No!" Castiel said, placing a hand on his fathers chest as he pushed him away from Dean. "He's the one who saved me, Father. I'd be dead without him."

The man looked to his son, then back to Dean, switching between the both of them a few times before pointing his gun at Dean again. "That true? You save my boy?"

Dean nodded weakly and the man immediately dropped his gun, stepping forward to clap Dean on the shoulder, pulling him in for a brief hug he couldn't reciprocate.

"You did good," he said, stepping away from Dean and back to Castiel, pulling him close, kissing him hard on the temple. "Thank you for saving my son."

Dean nodded, but Castiel looked up at his dad. "Father, please protect him."

Dean looked surprised, and the man looked down at his son. "Protect him?"

"Not only am I in debt to him, but he saved my life. One of men who took me got away, and I'm afraid they'll come after him."

"You wish for me to grant him protection?"

"As if he were part of the family."

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Castiel, that is a lot to ask."

"Perhaps he can do something to earn it, but not too much. Father, he saved me."

The man looked Dean over, still holding his son in a side-hug. Dean felt a whip of jealousy course through him. He wished he was that close to his own father. The man was looking down at Dean's shorts, the only thing he currently had on, his shirt back at the stand. "What is your profession?" the man asked.

"I'm a lifeguard," Dean responded.

"You guard lives?"

"Yes, sir."

The man nodded. "Very well. You continue to do so, with my son."

Dean cocked his head in confusion, and Castiel looked up at his father. "What?"

The man grinned and clapped his son lightly on the shoulder as he walked over to Dean, doing the same to him. "He works for you, now. Meet your new guard."

Castiel stared dumbfounded at his father, and Dean was prepared to laugh, unaware that he could make a face other than 'solemn death-stare' for longer than a few seconds, but he was too far gone to laugh, completely lost in the fact that he'd just essentially been kidnapped, only to become some Russian crime lord's son's bodyguard.

"I don't remember agreeing to this," Dean said, twisting his wrists around as the boat driver was called back in with a key for his handcuffs and a shirt for Dean to wear. It was too big on him, but he didn't mind having something to put on.

"It only way for me to offer full protection," the man said.

"By putting me in the line of fire to protect your son?" Castiel was sitting in his father's chair, spinning around in it slowly.

"Only when needed. Castiel will not leave often. I don't want him taken again."

Castiel stilled in his chair. "I did not agree to this."

"You did when you asked to protect your savior."

"Maybe I don't want protection," Dean said, sitting down on one of the available chairs lining the wall behind him

"So you want death?"

Dean stilled, as did Castiel, who was prepping to spin himself again in the chair. Dean didn't speak until Castiel was spinning once more. "Why would I die?"

"Because they will be after you," the man explained. "You saved their enemy, the one they were sent to kill. You're a pawn in they're way. They will take you down, whether they need to or not anymore."

"So," Dean started, trying to simplify it. "I'm either your son's bodyguard, or I die?"

"Essentially," the man agreed.

"I…" Dean shook his head. How he had gotten roped into this whole this was lost to him, and his mind was swirling, just wanting this day to be over so that he could go home, wake up, and pretend as if it had never happened. He knew, though, somewhere in his mind, that this was all real, and that it wouldn't be going away any time soon, and that he'd have to live up to the fact that his life had just been flipped upside down, and he had no way to get out. "I don't even know how to fight somebody, let alone protect them," he said as a last-ditch effort.

"Don't worry about that," the man said, walking to and stilling Castiel in his chair. Castiel unfurled himself from in it and stood up, allowing his father to sit. "We will send you through training. For now, follow Castiel to your new room."

"My what?" Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no no. Dean was  _not_ staying here. He was going home, back to his father and brother, back to the life he'd always known.

"Your new bedroom," he explained, giving Castiel a light pat on the back, sending him on his way. "You'll be staying with us."

Dean stared at the man, unable to move due to shock, so Castiel came over to him, grabbing his wrist, tugging him out of the office and down the narrow stairway. He let go of his wrist once he knew Dean would follow.

He led him back out into the main room and up the wide, sweeping staircase. He wlked through a path of halls, halfway down the first hallway before turning right, all the way to the end of the second hallway, then up another sweeping staircase, though not quite as defined as before.

There was a narrow hallway at the top with two doors leading to separate rooms. Castiel stopped in front of them. He pointed to the one on the right. "It's yours."

Dean nodded to him, thanking him before stepping in to his room. It was large. About twice as big as the one he had back home, complete with a bathroom and walk-in closet that had nothing in it. Dean looked around in awe, momentarily forgetting that it wasn't home, and that it never would be, and that this was all just temporary, until they could agree that the whole ordeal had blown over, and protection wasn't necessary anymore.

For the time being, however, he was trapped. Castiel came in behind him, starling him as he brushed right passed him and to his closet. Dean followed him in, only to see him setting down a pair of boots, a t-shirt, and some sweats. Dean cleared his throat, and Castiel stood up, snapping his attention to him.

Dean gestured down at the pile of belongings, and Castiel explained. "I guessed you need some clothes. Boots are just a bit big on me, so they should fit you, and the others…" Castiel shrugged, refusing to meet Dean's eye.

Dean brought it up. "Why won't you look at me?"

"Because I'm sorry I have you trapped without anything. That wasn't my plan."

"It's okay," Dean said. "I'll get used to it. It's only temporary, right?"

Castiel shook his head no, but agreed with Dean verbally. "Right." Castiel rubbed at his neck for a moment before brushing passed Dean on his way out. "I'm to shower. Enjoy your new room." He was halfway out the door when he stopped, looking back at Dean. "And thank you. For saving me."

Dean shook his head. "No problem."

Castiel stared at Dean while longer before whipping around, heading across the hall and into his room, leaving Dean alone to do with himself what he pleased in his new and open room. He decided to curl up on his bed, closing his eyes. He wanted to take a short nap, exhausted from the day thus far, but his mind wouldn't stop racing, filling with thoughts of how'd he'd probably never be able to leave, and the only way out was to die, be it at the hands of once again saving Castiel's life, or trying to get away from doing just that.

He was trapped. He felt as though he was suffocating, much like he had been earlier that day, but there would be no end to this, as far as he could tell. No bright light before the dark of death.

Just hell.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian words are spelled out phonetically for your convenience using google translate and the small amount of the language I know myself. If it's too confusing, let me know.

Dean was woken up by a smack to the face.

"What the fuck!?" he shouted, springing up in bed. He'd fallen asleep for only an hour, a quick nap by his standards, when Castiel had awoken him.

"You needed to wake up."

"Couldn't have done it a different way?" he asked, rubbing his cheek, the sting of the slap fading away.

"Niet," he responded, walking back out of Dean's room. "Training downstairs. Be there."

Dean sat up with a groan. He counted himself lucky the bed was comfortable, but that was all he was grateful for at the moment. He gave himself some time to reemerge from his drowsy state, and only managed to lose his way once on the way down from his room, the straight hallways no help to him when they all looked the same from a visitors standpoint, the house looking more and more like and office building the more Dean explored it. He finally found the main walkway, and stumbled down the sweeping staircase and into the foyer, standing and waiting for someone to come get him, as he had no idea where, exactly, he was supposed to go.

Castiel came out of a side hallway after a while, crossing his arms as he glared at Dean. He had a new t-shirt on and some loose black pants, as well as a large, still-darkening bruise across his right cheek from earlier. Dean didn't want to know what his stomach looked like. "You're late."

"I don't even know where I am," Dean explained with a sigh, voice defeated as he tossed his hands into the air, smacking them down against his thighs.

"Follow me." Castiel said flatly, spinning on his toes, bare feet smacking against the wooden floor as he took a turn halfway through the foyer and through a door. He look a left, hopping down a few steps into what Dean could only describe as a dojo. The pale wooden floors were contrasting to the grey walls, but the matching grey mats on top of the wood tied it all together. The lights were bright, and Dean could see that passed one of the walls was another room. A large mirror reflected back a sliver of light, and Dean assumed it was a rehearsal space for dancing.

Castiel let out a rip of a yell, gaining Dean's attention as he jumped in to the air after taking a few timed steps, spinning his body with his leg out, kicking one of the two punching bags over the built-in grey mats, sending it swinging as he landed. He grabbed the bag as it swung by him, stilling it and punching it repeatedly with his free hand. He stopped after a minute, his breathing hard, his face tinted red.

"How am I supposed to protect you if you could kick my ass?"

"I'm supposed to kick ass," Castiel explained, spin kicking the bag again. "Especially yours. You supposed to kick  _other_ people's ass. I'm supposed to stay away from them."

Dean sighed. "Well, are you gonna teach me, or what?"

Castiel stilled his swinging bag, looking over at Dean. He raised an eyebrow. "Me? Teach  _you_?" He laughed, tilting his head back, letting out the deep, round, and joyous sound he had the day before. Dean would find it endearing if he wasn't so offended.

"What's so wrong with that?"

"You suck. Like you say, I could kick your ass, and I'm  _student_. That not good for learning. You need  _teacher_  who can kick your ass."

"So why am I down here?"

"Mychalla."

"What?"

"No. Who." Dean cocked his head and Castiel explained farther. "He teach me. Now he teach you. Warm up, Winchester."

Dean dropped down to the ground without a question, beginning to stretch himself out. Castiel watched with a slight smirk of a grin on his face, continually irritating Dean until he snapped. "What the fuck is that goddamn grin about?"

"That you call warm up?"

Dean stared at him, stretching himself forward, grabbing his toes, trying to decipher exactly what Castiel had said. It took him a moment. "Uhhh, yeah. What, is this not warming up to you?"

"No. It's stretching."

"Yeah, exactly. Warming up."

Castiel just laughed and went back to his bag, leaving Dean to continue stretching with a permanent scowl on his face. Who the fuck did Castiel think he was? Well, other than a crime lord's son.

Dean growled quietly to himself when he felt he was done stretching, pushing himself to his feet. He swung his arm up over his head, bending it at the elbow, pushing down on it with his free hand. "So," he asked, dropping his arm before doing the same stretch to the other. "When's this Mychalla guy showing up?"

"Right now."

Dean turned around at the deep voice that echoed behind him. A large, tanned man stood right in the entrance, his huge frame intimidating enough without his deep, dark glare and his exorbitant amount of muscle. Dean gulped as the man lumbered in to the room. "You warmed up?"

Castiel laughed behind Dean. "Oh yeah. He's stretched. He's good."

Mychalla joined in the laughter with Castiel, two deep voices bouncing around the room, and Dean growled. "Stop!"

They both silenced themselves. "I'm sorry," Castiel muttered under his breath. "I'll go back to kicking ass."

Dean sent him a look, unsatisfied with Castiel's quick mood change, but he dropped it as he turned to his new instructor. "So, what are we learning?"

"Sambo."

"Samba?" Dean blinked up at him, confusion washing over him.

"Samb _o_. It's Russian," he explained.

"Of course it is."

"Fighting without a weapon. Useful for hand to hand."

"Won't I have a gun?"

Mychalla rolled his eyes, reaching behind him to slip a gun out of his holster. He flipped it in his hand, holding the handle out for Dean to take. "Grab it." Dean did. "Now point it at me." He did. "Attack me."

While Dean was staring at his gun, trying to figure out how, exactly, to attack, Mychalla stepped forward, smacking Dean's gun out of his hand and in an arch to the ground with a clatter, grabbing his wrist, spinning to step behind him. Dean yelped as his arm was bent at an unnatural angle, even more so when his feet were swiped out from under him and he was sent down to his knees before an elbow was dug in to his spine, pressing his chest down to the ground with a thud. Mychalla grabbed Dean's ankle, pulling it up to his wrist, keeping him pinned to the ground.

"Uncle! Uncle!" Dean shouted, pressing his cheek into the grey mat he'd been pushed half on to, kicking his free leg the best he could.

"Wrong word."

"Stop!"

"Say in Russian."

"I don't speak Russian!" Dean shouted, voice squeaking as he struggled under the much larger man.

"Time to learn."

"What!?"

"Say budet, or ostanovit," Castiel interjected with a grin, a hand on his punching bag, leaning slightly as he watched the whole situation unfold before him.

"Budet!" Dean shouted. "Ostanovit! Ostanovit!"

Mychalla let go and sat up on his knees, pushing himself to his feet. "Gun useless," he said, brushing his hands together.

Dean snapped his arm off of his back and to the floor with a light thud, stretching it the most he could without moving it. He rolled on to his back, and Castiel stepped over him, a foot on each side of his legs. He held out his hand.

Dean was cautious, but he reached up, grabbing Castiel's hand. He pulled him up in one swift tug, and Dean was impressed with his strength, though he really shouldn't have been. He'd seen how strong Castiel was just minutes before.

Dean brushed his legs with his hands, turning to look at Mychalla. "So, what? Am I not allowed to shoot my gun at you?"

"I'd make you shoot yourself."

Dean gulped at Mychalla's face, no emotions wavering on it, his expression as serious as ever.

"Stop scaring him," Castiel said as he turned back to his bag. He took a few steps back from it, charging and jumping on to it. Dean watched in awe as his legs wrapped around it, holding him up as he dropped his arms, pulling the bag down to the ground, his hands slamming on the ground with a solid smack. He used his handstand as leverage as he bent at his hips, pushing up on his hands in order to flip the bag beneath him and pin it to the ground as he landed on top.

"Woah," Dean was finally able to mutter once Castiel had hopped off the bag and to his feet, walking to and pressing a button on the side of the wall to pull the bag back up.

"I taught him that," Mychalla said, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

"Can you teach me?"

Castiel and Mychalla laughed again, the joyous round echoing around the room. Dean felt offended again. "What?"

"It take time," Castiel explained, going back to attacking his punching bag without another word.

"Let's get to learning, then," Dean said, and Mychalla grinned.

Dean wasn't pinned to the floor again, not quite ready to deal with that again, though he was taken down a few times. Mychalla decided to start Dean off on disarming his attacker, but when the knife was pulled out, Dean called it quits.

"I don't want to die!"

"I won't kill you."

"Yeah, only seriously maim me."

Take downs were what Mychalla when with next. Castiel stopped his attacks on his punching bag every time Dean was knocked to the ground, but he wasn't doing awful. Sweeps, tackles, and spins were what he learned, and Dean hopped up and cheered loudly when he finally god Mychalla down on the ground, though was tripped moments later by the man sweeping his leg out along the floor, kicking Dean's feet out from underneath him.

He landed on the ground with a thud and a groan, squeezing his eyes shut from the impact. When he opened them again, a long, slender hand was in front of him, pale pink polish covering perfectly manicured nails. Dean looked up.

Above him stood Alona Novak, the blonde bombshell of a daughter, and the eldest of the five girls in their family, excluding their mother. She had on a tank top in a shade similar to the one on her nails, he long locks pressed into loose curls rolling down her back. She had curved bangs in front of her face, and lipstick to match the rest of her outfit. She waved her hand and Dean grabbed it, allowing her to help him up.

She dropped Dean's hand as soon as he was on his feet, and before he could even blink, she had turned and pulled her brother in to a hug, squeezing him tighter than even his father had earlier. "Oh, Castiel!" she said excitedly. "I was worried! Baby brother gone!? In danger! I could not stand it!"

"I'm okay now," Castiel muttered in return, patting her back lightly. Dean laughed at how helpless he was against the blonde woman.

"Good. Now, little boy like you need food."

"Alona, I'm practicing."

"No longer. Father wants you at dinner. And your new guard." She finalized before she turned to Mychalla. "You may come as well." She whirled back around to her brother, grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the dojo without another word. Dean noticed, as they were walking away, that she was taller than her brother, though her pale pink heels could have been the result of that.

She dragged Castiel off, her hair bouncing in waves as her thin-heeled shoes clacked on the wooden floor with each step they took. Castiel was fighting her every move, trying to plant his feet on the ground, but she was strong, the muscles in her bicep flexing out as she pulled her brother along, his bare feet squelching across the clean floor as he struggled.

Dean laughed softly once they were gone. "Are they always like that? Their family, I mean?"

"Only her. She always gone, but love her family very much. She a model, that why she blonde."

"A disguise?"

"Of sorts. Everyone know she Novak, though. Disguise not necessary."

Dean nodded and began to follow after the pair, hoping not to lose them, as he had no idea where the dining room was. Mychalla had declined to come along, stating that he wanted to return to his family back in their home a short drive down the beach. Dean nodded and proceeded without him, making his way back to the foyer.

There were smeared footprints on the previously spotless floor leading in to yet another hallway diverging from the foyer. Dean decided that was his best bet, and he was right, coming across a large opening to a dining room.

There was a large mahogany table in the center of the room, matching chairs all around it. There was a chandelier hanging above the table, exactly the same as the one in the foyer, but scaled down to what Dean considered to be an appropriate size. It was giving off a deep, warm light, and Dean thought to himself that the entire house was lit up by special bulbs, always creating the homely feel, despite how open and cold the home could seem. The size of just the table alone was astounding, and Dean couldn't help but wonder how big, exactly, the house and the Novak family fortune was.

Castiel gestured Dean over to the side of the table they were on, a chalice of sorts placed between his fingers, a similar one in Alona's, her free arm wrapped around Castiel's shoulders.

"My baby brother is okay!" she cheered as Dean sat down, sliding him a glass before drinking a large amount of whatever liquid was in hers. Castiel followed suit, but all Dean could do was stare in to the glass. He swirled whatever was in it around, sniffing it.

"What is this?"

"Vodka," Alona replied.

"That's not perpetuating Russian stereotypes at all," Dean muttered, pulling his glass up for a small sip. It was strong and bitter, and stung his throat as it went down, but he wouldn't let it show how hard it was for him to drink it while the other two were downing gulps of it like it was water while the wait staff placed platters and bowls of food on the table around them.

They stopped when their father entered the room, sitting himself down at the head of the table. Alona stood immediately and walked around the table to the other side of him, bending and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Viktor turned and hugged her, earning a small giggle from her. "Daddy! Baby brother is okay!"

"I know," he responded. Dean hadn't realized how truly deep his voice was until it was matched against Alona's soft and high one. "I was very worried. This man saved him."

"You saved my brother?" she asked, turning to Dean, expression and voice eerily reminiscent of her father earlier that day. Dean nodded weakly and her face brightened, her lips quirking up as she walked quickly over to Dean, hugging him as well. His eyes grew wide, and Castiel and his father laughed, the only difference between the two of them being the pitch of their voices. Dean felt yet another spark of jealousy, but the blonde hair brushing against his neck snapped him out of it.

Alona gave him another squeeze before moving back around the table to sit beside her father, allowing Castiel to slide down a chair, sitting closer to his father as well. He patted the seat beside him, staring at Dean until he moved over, settling in beside Castiel.

A few others joined them, but Dean didn't have a clue who any of them were. None of them were girls, so they certainly weren't the Novak children. Workers, or others who shared the home, Dean assumed.

The platters the wait staff had brought out were piled high with meats and breads, and the bowls were filled with different soups. Dean wasn't sure of the customary way to eat what was placed out, so he watched Castiel and his father fill their plates, doing the same to his own.

The meat was apparently supposed to be dipped into the reddish soup Dean had poured in to his bowl, and he could see why. He attempted to eat it plain, but it was too dry and stuck to the roof of his mouth and throat when he tried to swallow it down. He had to wash it down with the bitter vodka in his cup, making his throat sting.

He made a mental note to not eat the meat dry again.

The wait staff brought out desert next, and Dean was thrilled to see it was a bowl of plain chocolate ice cream, which he downed easily.

"What family are you of?" Alona asked once they were all done eating, letting their stomachs rest as they conversed.

"Uhhh, Winchester?" Dean said, unsure of what to say after gaining the response he did from Castiel earlier.

"I've never heard of them," Alona replied, taking a sip of her drink, but her father seemed to light up.

"You John Winchester's boy?"

Dean knitted his eyebrows together. "How do you know my father."

"Business partner back in the day. Supplied me alcohol," he laughed.

"Sounds like my dad."

Viktor laughed again. "Very good brewster, very shitty father."

"Couldn't disagree with that," Dean replied, pulling his glass up for a sip. The bitter burn of the alcohol was dulling, and it was easier for him to drink. He took another gulp before setting it down, leaning back in his chair.

Viktor followed suit. "I assume you not able to say goodbye to family?"

Dean shook his head. "My dad won't care. It's Sam I'm worried about."

Viktor nodded once. "So you must be Dean."

"Yes sir."

"Your name is Dean?" Castiel asked, turning to look at him properly, though he was disregarded as Viktor continued.

"Tell you what. Castiel gets new cell phone tomorrow. Use his to call them in morning."

"Really?"

"Yes. My son will show you how to use it."

"I know how to use a cell phone."

"Not this one," Castiel said, butting in. He pushed himself away from the table and stood, his chair sliding across the floor with a low scratch and squeak. "I've had long day, as you know. I'll be going to bed now."

Alona was the first up to hug him goodnight, kissing him on the cheek, his father following shortly after, collecting him in his arms, pressing him close. Castiel's thin and toned frame looked minuscule next to his father's large and bulky one. Dean still couldn't get over how tall he was.

"Is good to have you back, son. So glad you are safe." He kissed his temple.

"Good to be back," Castiel replied, pulling away from his father's strong hold. "Dean," he said. Dean snapped his head up, his gaze falling on Castiel. "Please to be joining me?"

"Uhhh, sure," Dean responded cautiously. He pushed himself out from the table, his chair squeaking across the floor much like Castiel's. He walked around to the other man, getting stopped twice, once by Viktor to receive a clap on the shoulder, and once from Alona as she hopped up to kiss his cheek. She was taller than him, even more so in her heels, which made him uncomfortable, but she was nice, and smelled like flowers, and Dean couldn't help but to mention that to Castiel once they were out of the dining room and in the main foyer.

"You're sister's really tall."

"That why Alona want to be model."

"And she smells like flowers?"

Castiel was leading the way, his still-bare feet smacking across the wooden floor. He looked back over his shoulder as he grabbed on to the stair-railing, using it to change his direction, hopping up the stairs. "You like my sister?"

"Well, she's nice."

"No, I mean,  _like_  like."

"Do I have a crush on your sister?" Dean asked in disbelief with a huff of a laugh, mildly out of breath once they reached the top of the stairs. He looked down at his body, mentally making a note to work out more.

"Yes."

"What? No. I mean, she's beautiful," Dean added, receiving a menacing glare from Castiel as they rounded a corner. "don't get me wrong. But, uhh… Not my cup of tea."

"Not like blondes?"

"Or women."

Castiel stopped a few steps up the second flight of stairs, looking down at Dean, his eyebrows arched high. "You gay?"

Subtle. Dean crossed his arms, leaning against the wall at the base of the steps. "Well, I mean, yeah," he said, voice a little above a mutter, flipping his wrist as he tried to explain. "But it's a new thing. It's not like I don't find women attractive-"

"-You just rather fuck guys?"

Dean swallowed, looking up at Castiel, dropping his wrist and arm down to hang by his body. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Castiel looked vaguely surprised, but did nothing more than tug the corner of his lips down while pulling the center up along with his eyebrows, cocking his head briefly, making what Dean considered to be a 'not bad' face, despite that the name didn't fit the situation.

Slapping feet pulled Dean's attention, and he noticed Castiel had left him behind as he walked up the stairs. He was halfway up by the time Dean decided to follow after him, skipping up the steps. He caught him at the top. "So, what? You're straight?"

"No."

Dean's eyebrows flew up, his eyes widening. "You're gay?"

"No."

They'd reached the end of their journey, both stopping in front of their doors. Dean leaned against the frame of his, Castiel copying him, one arm up, his elbow above his head to support him. The sleeve of his t-shirt slid up his arm, and there was a fine purple line down the inside of his bicep, outlining the muscles nicely. Dean would be sure to ask him about that later.

"So what are you then?"

"Anything I can stick my dick in to." Dean's eyes went wide, his eyebrows shooting up, and Castiel laughed, the deep and robust sound echoing through the small hallway. Dean was growing used to hearing it, and wondered why more people didn't laugh in the way the Novaks did. "I kidding. Everybody hot, though, so I not lying too much."

Dean grinned. "Everybody's hot? Does that mean I'm hot?"

"Depends," Castiel replied, lowering his arm down to rest his shoulder on the frame instead. "Am I hot?"

Dean's eyes roamed over Castiel's body. He  _was_ nice looking, a toned body with incredible muscles, and a great ass. Dean shrugged, roving his eyes back up, focusing on the deep bruise across most of his right cheek. Dean shrugged again, changing the subject. "Why did you bring me up here?"

"Thought you needed to get away from family. They need catch up anyway. Plus, you my bodyguard now. Though not much of one. You smaller than me."

"I'll be able to kick your ass someday."

"We see," Castiel finalized, shoving himself off of his frame, opening his door in the process. He stepped back in to his room, but Dean called for him to stop. He looked up, waiting for Dean to continue.

"Uhh, I didn't say it earlier. But thanks."

"For what?"

"For saving me. That guy was choking me out. I would have died without you there." Dean huffed out a laugh, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, still leaning against the solid door frame. "So, I guess that makes us even, huh?"

Castiel shook his head, eyes crinkling at the edges as he grinned. "Not quite. You not be in risk if you not save me. I still owe you one."

Dean nodded in acceptance, not willing to argue with the Russian across from him. "Alright. Well, still. Thanks, man."

"No problem, man."

They were locked in a stare-down for a moment, though not a vicious one, just one in which neither of them were quite sure how to end their conversation. Castiel finished it by closing his door as he stepped back, allowing Dean to open his and step in to his room.

He was unsure about the protocol for sleeping in a home that wasn't yours, let alone the home of anyone he was truly familiar with, but he went on the bias that it was now  _his_ room and that he should have the liberty to sleep however he damn well pleased in  _his_ room.

To be safe, he decided on wearing his boxers to bed, but nothing else, leaving his discarded and dirty clothes in a small pile near his closet, unsure of where to put it. There was a two-doored tunnel in one of his walls, one he assumed was a laundry chute, but he didn't dare toss his clothes down it for fear that it would end up landing on some unsuspecting woman, whose only crime was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He collapsed on his bed after washing his face in the shiny bathroom right beside his closet, everything in there pearly white and gold aside from the floor, which was a continuation of the deep brown wooden floor covering most of the house, or what of it Dean had seen. He curled in to the blankets, actually comfortable with the temperature and how cushy the bed was and how his pillows rested underneath his cheek, supporting him nicely.

It was nice to have nice things, even though they weren't his, Dean though to himself as he drifted off to sleep. And for the first time that day, the events of that morning weren't weighing down his thoughts and everything seemed like it would work out fine for him, the darkness of hell that he'd predicted just before wasn't coming true, and the light he hadn't been able to see was back, glowing brighter than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not very action filled, I apologize. 
> 
> I'm thinking of updating this once a week, should I be able to stick to that schedule. 
> 
> I should also add that this is un-betad, and will probably stay that way, so any and all mistakes are on me. If it's anything more than a minor spelling mistake, please let me know!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel woke Dean up in the morning after waiting for hours for him to do it himself. Granted, it wasn't morning when he was woken up, unless 11a.m. is considered morning. To Castiel, it's not, and he was sure to inform Dean of that.

"Wake up," he said, voice loud as he dumped two cups of chilled water on Dean, one on his face, the other on his crotch.

Dean shot up with a yelp for the second time in 24 hours, water dripping from his face and down his chest, causing goosebumps to spring up all over his skin. His eyes were wide along with his pupils as he glared at his bathroom, where Castiel had disappeared, reemerging with two new cups filled to the brim a minute later. He paused just outside of the door, staring at Dean.

Dean's eyes grew hard. "What the hell, man!?"

"You needed to wake up, man," Castiel said, walking over to Dean. He handed one of the cups to him, raking his eyes over his exposed skin and his soaking wet boxers. He cocked his head. "You wear undershorts to bed?"

Dean's glare had faded in to an incredulous stare, lips parted open as he blinked slowly at him. "Undershorts?"

"You know, uhhh… Underwear? Boxers?"

"Boxers," Dean said with a nod, taking a sip of the water from the glass Castiel had handed him. It was cold as it spread through his mouth and down his throat. He shivered a little, pulling up the partially wet blanket, tugging it up to cover himself decently enough to remove the chill. "And yes," he said after taking another gulp of the water. "I sleep in them." Castiel pulled the previously dubbed 'not bad' face despite the name not really fitting the situation, once again. "What's that face for?"

"I assumed you sleep naked."

"Yet you still came in to my room to dump water on me."

"Yeah," Castiel said, downing the last of his water before setting his glass down on Dean's desk. He brushed the back of his hand over his lips, wiping the residue off, and Dean noticed Castiel was shirtless for the first time that morning. He was decently toned, something that Dean admired on his body, but covering a good portion of his abdomen was a deep purple bruise, starting right below the center of his ribs, pressing out on each side. It looked worse than Dean assumed it should have.

He swung his legs out from under the blankets, draping them over the edge of the bed as he stood, setting down his water as he stepped to Castiel. He grabbed his hips, spinning him slowly around to face his back toward the bed, walking him to the edge before laying him down, cradling his head so as to not drop him.

Castiel was staring up at Dean with confusion and mild worry plastered over his face, but he didn't fight Dean, just letting loose a half-assed complaint as his shoulder was laid down on the still-wet and cool bed-sheet. Dean placed himself over Castiel's thighs, earning another complaint about how his pants would get wet, but Dean ignored it as he bent down, getting his face close to his injured skin as he began gently poking and prodding around Castiel's ribs, the ones that had the bruise covering them.

He yelped when Dean poked too hard, and grabbed the hand that was doing the touching. "Dean, stop!"

"Why? I think they broke some of your ribs yesterday. Did you have someone look that over? Jesus, man, that bruise is bad. Like, really bad. Are you sure you don't have broken ribs? I thin-"

Castiel had grabbed on to Dean's biceps, wrapping one of his legs around one of Dean's, rolling their bodies, flipping Dean on to his back, pinning him down by the shoulders, his feet hooked around his calfs to keep him from fighting too much, similar to the man he'd been attacked by the day before. "Dean. Stop."

Dean gaped up at Castiel, eyes wide. "I'm just saying you should really get your ribs checked out."

Castiel rolled his eyes and crawled off of Dean, letting him sit up. "It nothing. Not even hurt that bad."

"But they  _do_  hurt."

"Drop it."

"Okay," Dean said, letting Castiel's bruised abdomen fade from the conversation, though it still concerned him. "So why did you wake me up? And why are you shirtless?"

"We need go shopping. And get me new car. And maybe you car. And why put on clothes when not doing anything?"

Dean couldn't argue with that, though he paused mid shrug. "Wait. Get  _me_ a car?"

"You need drive too."

"Why are you dropping all of your 'to's? And no I don't."

"Well I'm not driving you around. You  _my_ guard. You drive  _me_ around. And because I can."

"So if I'm driving you, why do you need a car?"

"Can't always rely on you."

Dean let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes, rubbing his hands over his bare arms. He was still cold. "Whatever. Can you leave so I can change."

"What if I want watch?"

 _What the hell?_  " _To_ watch. And no."

Castiel rolled his eyes, crawling off of Dean's bed. "See you soon, Winchester." He raked his eyes over Dean's body, biting his lip as he took him in, not feeling at all guilty by his blatant staring, despite that it made Dean slightly uncomfortable, though he made no effort to cover himself.

Dean cleared his throat, and Castiel finally left his room, leaving Dean to do as he pleased. He immediately got up to shut his door. He hadn't  _disliked_ Castiel's obvious staring, but it was weird. He'd just met the guy, was living with his family and away from his own, and he was  _checking him out_? Dean shook his head.

Probably just a Russian thing.

He left to his closet which was depressingly empty, pulling on the only outfit he had in there. Castiel had been right about the boots fitting him, as they did quite nicely, but he couldn't help but to feel guilty, taking these things from him. Sure, they'd been offered, given to him without request, but it didn't make him feel any less guilty. He had his own clothes. He could provide for himself.

Lacing the boots proved to be difficult, not from the wear on the laces, as there was none, but the lack of it, making the cotton stiff and hard to manipulate. Once tied, Dean pushed himself to his feet, turning to leave his closet, only to be met by Castiel, who had changed nothing aside from putting on a shirt, blocking his way. His eyes widened. "How much did you see?"

"You putting on your shirt. Very nice back," he responded, holding out a cell phone. Dean reached out to take it, Castiel dropping his hand as soon as it was empty. "You say you wanted to call family. Do so."

Dean flipped the phone is his hand. "Didn't you say there was a special way to use this?"

"Yes." Castiel walked into the closet, stopping beside Dean. It was too narrow for the both of them to be standing shoulder to shoulder, so Castiel stepped slightly behind him, putting his arm around him and on his shoulder, pressing close instead.

No. Dean was  _not_ flushing. Not even a little bit.

"So this phone has special code to get in, but also special code to do other things. Code is 36948." Dean tapped it in and the phone unlocked, opening to the home screen.

A few games were on it, and Dean looked back at Castiel. "Temple Run? Angry Birds?  _Candy Crush_? Really?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Fun game. Anyway, now to dial, open the dialer." Dean did. "Press seven, three, seven." Dean did. "Okay. That all. Now dial family."

"Why do you have to put in those numbers?" Dean asked as Castiel stepped around him, letting his hand drag down from his shoulder and low across his back, fingers grazing his hip as he made his way to the door.

He paused. "So that if phone stolen, people that not know code can not call or text contacts, and so you can't be traced. Precaution," he concluded, stepping out of the closet. "Call family. Come meet me in my room when done."

Dean nodded, sending a thank you his way as Castiel walked out of his room, closing the door behind him. As soon as he was out, Dean dialed the number, pressing call and holding the phone to his ear, the dull ring echoing loudly in his head. He went to turn down the volume, but stopped when a voice came out. "Hello?"

The voice was small, leading him to know exactly who it was. "Hey, Sammy."

"Dean?" There was a rustling from the other end of the line, as well as a muffled voice. "Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me."

Sam pulled the phone away from his ear, calling back "Yeah, Dad. It's Dean." before returning to the phone. "Hi Dean."

"Hey Sammy."

"Whe-" His voice was cut off, and a deeper one took place. "Dean? Where the hell are you?"

Dean scratched his head, leaning back up against the wall beside the entrance to his closet. "Uhh, obviously not home."

"No shit, Dean. Now where are you? And  _why_  aren't you here?"

"I did some stuff, Dad. I saved a life," he added, voice rising with a small sense of pride, but it fell just as fast.

"And why do I care."

"Well, I saved…" Dean didn't know how much he was allowed to say, so he played it safe. "Someone very powerful."

"Why do I care about a drowning victim, Dean?"

"No. Uhh, this… person was being attacked. I saved them, but the person who was attacking them knows who I am. Dad, if I came back home, it'd put all three of us in danger."

"You think I don't know how to use a gun?"

"They're a bit more powerful than that."

"Dean," his dad said, voice still hard. "I don't care. I can handle this family just fine. Get your ass home."

Dean rolled his eyes, done with this argument. "No can do, Dad."

"Dean," he warned.

"Put Sammy on the phone. I want to say goodbye. I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"Try a few hours. You'll get your ass home tonight, or I swear to  _god_ , Dean…"

"I think the people I'm with are a bit more powerful than you. Put Sam on the phone."

"No."

"Dad."

"No. You'll see him when you come home."

Dean sighed, squeezing his eyes tight as he pressed the fingertips of his free hand to his forehead, kneading lightly. "I'm not coming home. Put him on or I'm hanging up."

There was silence on the other end, then a click followed by dead air. Dean pulled the phone away from his ear, only to see the home screen. He'd been hung up on.

He had to restrict himself from throwing the phone on the ground, not wanting to shatter it as it wasn't his own. Instead, he turned and punched the wall, his knuckles cracking sharply as he did. He pressed his forehead to the wall as he shook out his hand, trying to dissipate the pain. It went away about the same time he calmed himself down enough to not lash out at the next person he'd see, who'd be Castiel.

"You okay?" Castiel asked as Dean walked into his room, tossing his phone on to his bed. Castiel watched it fly through the air and bounce on his mattress from where he was sitting, right by the foot of his bed where his desk was, his computer on and a website open.

"Fine," Dean responded, crossing his arms as he leaned against the foot of Castiel's bed after walking completely in to his room.

Castiel didn't pursue it farther than that, instead putting his computer to sleep before standing. "Let's go then." He nodded at Dean before walking out of the room, not bothering to grab his cell phone. Dean followed after him, a short distance behind him as they went down the stairs and through the winding hallways.

"Are you sure going out in public is a good idea?" Dean asked as they began their descent down the second stairway, doubt finally beginning to set in about the plan for the day. "I mean, you just got attacked yesterday, and I'm  _definitely_ not ready to defend you. I mean, what I did yesterday was… Was…" Dean trailed off.

Castiel had stopped on the stairs, turning and stepping up to meet Dean as he continued down, nearly knocking in to the other. Their faces were mere inches apart, and Castiel was staring hard in to Dean's eyes. "You've protected me before," he growled under his breath, never breaking his eyes from Dean. They were nearly at the same level with Dean a step higher than Castiel, and Castiel standing to his full height. "More times than you know, Dean. Stop belittling yourself."

His voice was hard and deep, his eyes just the same, and Dean couldn't help but to feel the slightest bit uncomfortable with Castiel's face so close to his own, his breath brushing over his lips. He wanted to ask what Castiel meant, but could do nothing aside from gulp hard, giving a slight nod. Castiel continued to stare at him for a moment before backing himself away, turning and walking down the rest of the stairs.

Dean was frozen, watching him retreat, unwilling to move until Castiel snapped his fingers, getting Dean to finally make his way down to him. "You won't be guarding me today," Castiel explained as they moved out toward the entrance facing the beach and dock. They turned before they reached the door however, hopping down a few steps an into the largest garage Dean had ever seen. There had to have been at least six cars in there.

A blacked-out SUV was on and running, Castiel's father in the front, Mychalla beside him. Dean blinked. "Is he your dad's-"

"-Guard? Yes."

"I thought he was your-"

"-Instructor? Also yes."

Castiel opened the back door, sliding in, letting Dean hop in next to him with an eye roll. He slammed the door shut. "Would you let me finish my sen-"

"No."

Mychalla was driving, and Dean was staring intently out his window as they pulled out of the garage and to the front of the house. There was a wide, sweeping driveway lined with flowers and rocks and perfectly kept grass covering possibly the largest front lawn Dean had ever seen in his life. Arching marble-esque stairways led up each side of the solid mahogany main entrance, and Dean wondered how he'd never actually seen that door.

Perhaps he had, and just didn't know it.

The drive along the road leading out to the highway was long and wavy, gentle curves bordered by reeds and rocks the closer the got to the shore, and flowers and pebbles the farther inland they went.

Dean stared out at the passing scenery, each image bouncing off his eyes as memories of when he was younger played behind them. The beaches and lighthouses made constant reappearance in his location-induced daydream, he and Sam running along the sand near the water, carefully avoiding the stray rock or two carried into the clean area by an unsuspecting visitor. They'd pick it up and return it to its rightful place along the makeshift fence of reeds and rocks around the beach, laughing as they once again ran down the soft sands to the closest lighthouse while their father walked slowly behind them.

Dean was snapped from his thoughts abruptly as the car came to a stop. There had been a gate a short way down the road from where the Novak's home was, and there was another blocking the entrance to to the private road just off of the highway, which they were stopped in front of as the lumbering door slid open. Unlike the one back closer to their home, this gate was large and dark, wiring over the top of it, and multiple measures of security just to enter. Dean couldn't tell exactly what there was, but there appeared to be a card swipe, and a code box.

The car lurched forward again, snapping Dean another level in to society, the voices in the car now ringing out to him. Castiel's was the most clear, followed by his father's booming voice, along with Mychalla's deeper-than-all voice.

Dean felt dainty.

"We need clothes for Dean," Castiel said, and Dean snapped his head over to them.

"We can stop by my house. I have my own clothes," he said, voice barely above a mumble.

"Nonsense," Viktor replied, shifting himself in his seat just enough to peer back at Dean. "What good is money if you can't use for good cause?"

"You make me sound like a charity case," Dean muttered once again.

"No, Winchester," Castiel butted in, though physically shrunk in his seat, head tucking down as his father cleared his throat, clearly unhappy with being interrupted.

Viktor sent a look at Castiel through the mirror, causing his son to look away before he continued. "As my son said, no. You need new wardrobe, and for all I care, you may pay me back. I don't expect, however."

"Why can't I just get my own clothes from home?"

"You need new wardrobe," both Castiel and his father said, suspiciously in synch with each other, making Dean feel as though they'd rehearsed it just to coerce him in to something he wasn't comfortable with.

Castiel was sent yet another look through the rearview mirror, and he backed down. It relieved Dean in a way that he wasn't entirely sure of himself. He eventually resigned with a sigh. "I'll get new clothes."

"Good," Viktor said. The conversation was over without another word, Viktor turning his head the slight degree back to face forward, Castiel looking briefly over at Dean as he sat back up to his full height. He snapped his eyes back to the headrest of his father's seat. Dean found it peculiar just how much of an effect Viktor had on his son, shaking him from his relaxed and friendly state, to one of something reminiscent of a soldier, a good and stern listener with a solid body and perfect form.

Dean swallowed hard, eventually tearing his eyes away from Castiel. They'd pulled up to what could only be described as a strip mall, which confused Dean as it had a gate only openable by a card. But instead of fast food and cheap jewelry stores for teenagers littering the available space, there were lines of tuxedo and bridal shops, shoe stores advertising their best leather, stores filled with suits, and only one shop Dean could call 'casual'.

It shocked him to be lead into the suit store. Dean stared around at the collection of finely made jackets and pants hanging on polished silver racks, pressed shirts folded on clear tables. Dean looked to the rest of his group, who were dressed casually. "Why are we in a suit shop?"

"You need suits," Viktor explained, clapping a man on the shoulder as he came over to greet them before pushing Dean off to a dressing room, tossing him into different pants and jackets and ties and shirts, measuring him, choosing the colors that looked best on him.

It was a new and confusing experience, the new man whipping around without a second thought to any of his motions, scribbling on a pad and measuring Dean repeatedly, seemingly in the same places, which seemed strange, but he wasn't about to argue with a man who's hand was a mere inch from his crotch.

It was done quickly, however, and Dean was grateful for that, returned to the group without anything with him. They left the store, and Dean looked back and the glass windows housing the nice clothing. "I thought I was getting a suit?"

"Suits," Viktor corrected. "And you are. They're tailoring them while we're out."

"So where are we going now?" Dean had been following behind the three men, but Castiel had gradually slowed his pace until he was walking even with Dean, who turned on what he considered to be protection mode to the best of his ability. He stepped closer to Castiel, who in turn, stepped closer to Dean.

It wasn't uncomfortable to be in such close quarters until Dean realized the four of them were pressed into a pack, his arm and hand brushing against Castiel's. He looked over at him. "Why are we walking so close?"

"Pack mentality," Castiel muttered back, turning his head. His lips were against Dean's ear, and his nose in his hair. Dean shivered. "Gather close in time of danger for safety, and general protection. You have it in you, Winchester."

"Good to know," Dean said back. It didn't stop them from walking far closer together than Dean deemed necessary, as there was barely anyone in sight walking around the mall. He took a minuscule step away, but Castiel just drifted with him, sticking close.

Dean didn't fight it, he just let Castiel stay close, their arms and hands still brushing together.

They eventually made their way to a shoe store, where Dean was told to choose two or three pairs of shoes. He didn't see why he'd need so many, as the only choices in the shop were shoes that would go with his suits. But he chose three pairs. A set in black, in brown, and in grey. The workers in the shop, along with Castiel's father and Mychalla, stayed behind as they fitted the supportive soles for Dean's shoes, as well as buying a new pair for Viktor. Castiel and Dean were permitted to go next door into the previously deemed casual store.

Dean didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this.

Based on the observation that all of the other stores in the strip mall were made for what Dean would consider to be gentlemen and others who wish to be fancy, it was a shock to see this store, which appeared to be a mix of Hot Topic, and Forever 21. Weird floral prints and nice jeans and silky button-ups littered the front of the store, gradually fading to darker and more casual clothing toward the back. The store was split in half, women's and men's, and Castiel led the both of them back to the men's section filled with dark clothing and t-shirts.

Castiel scanned over a few stacks before digging in, pulling out dark-washed jeans and slightly fitted t-shirts, tossing them at Dean, hooking a few over his own forearm. Dean caught the articles of clothing, following along blindly until Castiel tossed a pair of canvas shoes at him.

He growled, adding the sneakers to the top of the pile of clothing bundled in his arms. "What are you doing?"

"Shopping."

"So, what? Am I like, your mule?"

"I can carry my own clothes," he responded, holding up a shirt, looking over it before tossing it at Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Then why am I holding all of this?"

"Those for you."

Dean stopped. "Can I not choose my own clothes?"

"No."

Dean groaned, following after Castiel again, his steps wider as he caught back up to him before slowing his pace once more. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean, I choose for you, you look good, we both win."

"So why don't I choose clothes for you?"

"I know what I look good in." Castiel tossed two pairs of pants, one jeans, the other something black, along with a few sets of shorts on to Dean's pile, adding a few of his own before heading back to the dressing rooms.

"And I don't?" Dean asked as they stopped outside of a room. He dropped his pile of clothes on to the counter as a woman counted the number of articles he had. "And how do you even know my sizes?"

"I guessed."

"You're very short with me," Dean said, sitting down on one of the benches outside the line of dressing rooms.

"I'm boss of you."

"Your dad's the boss of me."

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean, slowly rotating to set his pile of clothing down on the counter. "You sure about that, Winchester?" He took a warning step forward, eyes narrowing even more, glinting into predator territory. Dean raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip quirking up in a smirk.

It only took Castiel two large steps to be close to Dean, bending down, hand directly beneath his neck, pressing on the hollow, forcing him back into the wall behind the bench he was sitting on with a grunt. Castiel brought his face in close, pressing harder on Dean's neck. He wasn't cutting off airflow, but it hurt, a stinging pain shooting from the points of his collarbones. Castiel moved in closer still, breathing harder than Dean was used to hearing, though still controlled. Their noses brushed together, and Dean's eyes crossed to keep them on Castiel's.

"You sure you want have this argument," Castiel asked, voice low and gravelly. He reached out to grab Dean's hand with his free one, sliding it up and forward on to his upper thing, placing it on the inside. Dean's fingers wrapped around the shaft of his gun, nestled in his thigh holster, and he gulped. Hard. Castiel smirked lightly. "Winchester."

Dean continued to stare at Castiel, finally admitting defeat as the woman behind the counter called for their attention. Castiel still hadn't broken away, so Dean gave in, tearing his eyes downward. Castiel smirked a bit more, sliding back from Dean, dropping his hand from his neck.

Rubbing the sore spot Castiel had created, Dean wandered over to the counter, only to be handed the piled of clothing. He was pushed toward a door by Castiel, and within moments was alone in the square room, mirror reflecting sharply back at him. He winced at his image. The lighting was unflattering.

"Do I really have to try these on?" Dean called out through the door, half-heartedly glaring at the pair of jeans in his hand. They looked as though they'd fit slim, and there were a few tears in them.

"Which o- It doesn't matter," Castiel added on. "You still have to put on. You have show me too."

"Dude, seriously?"

"Yes."

Dean groaned, but he knew better than to argue with Castiel. He wiggled himself in to the jeans, looking at himself in the mirror. They didn't fit as slim as he thought they would, but the tears made him feel like a rebellious teenager. Not that he wasn't, of course. Just not  _this_ kind of rebellious teenager. All he needed now was a lip piercing, and he'd be fit for any teen-wave rock concert out there.

He stared at his body. The shirt he had on fit him nicely, not too loose, not too snug. He liked it. But the jeans… "Do I really have to show you?"

"Yes."

"Whatever," he groaned out in a mumble, stepping through the door.

Castiel was immediately looking over him appreciatively, smirking a bit to himself as his eyes dragged over his legs, then back up over his abdomen, and finally back down his legs.

Dean felt uncomfortable.

Ogled.

Castiel continued to stare for a moment, but snapped himself out of it. "I'm…" He shook his head. "It's good. Get it."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Castiel was looking up at his eyes now, and Dean could tell he wasn't fucking around. With what felt like the hundredth eye-roll that day, he turned and stalked back into the room, changing in to the original clothes he'd arrived in.

Castiel looked much more relaxed as he reemerged, his standoffish attitude seemingly long gone. He grabbed the pile of his own clothes, waiting for Dean to collect his own before walking toward the checkout counter.

"Same purchase, different bags," Castiel said as he set down his clothes, pushing his pile to the side as he let Dean set down his own. The girl at the front began ringing up the clothing. Dean watched the price of it rise substantially with every article she rung up, but Castiel was distracted with the packages of boxers and panties lining the front. He grabbed a few packs of the silken boxers, placing a few on Dean's pile. He grab a package of the panties. "Look at these," he said to Dean.

"Very nice," Dean muttered.

"I want them."

"You in to cross-dressing?"

Castiel shrugged, looking at Dean, waiting for some sort of answer that only came in the form of yet another eye-roll. He tossed the package on to his own pile, and the girl rang them up, trying to keep the judgmental look off of her face without much success.

The total cost of their purchase was nearing $800, and Dean was shocked. "That's way too much money."

"Nonsense," Castiel said, handing over his credit card. The woman swiped it before Dean could even begin to argue, and he let out an anguished groan as the purchase went through.

"God, that's way too much."

"No. Don't argue with me."

"I was going to pay you guys back for all of this stuff! That's a lot of money."

"We wouldn't have accepted it anyway."

"My money? Your dad said I could pay you back…"

"He lied." Castiel had his bags around his wrist, and Dean grabbed his own, following the other out of the store, where they met up with the elders, making their way over to the store they'd just come from. "Hi father."

"Castiel. You get clothes?"

"Yes." Castiel nodded, holding up his bags. "I got some. Dean did as well."

"Good." Viktor had a bag in his hands, and Mychalla had a few garment bags in his. Viktor pointed at them. "Your suits, Dean. And your shoes."

Dean's eyes widened, and he held out his hand to take the bag of shoes, thanking Viktor as he was handed them. He made to take his garment bags from Mychalla, but he denied it, turning and walking away before Dean could really ask for them.

They returned back to their vehicle, and Viktor turned around as soon as they were back on the road. He held out a box to Dean, who cocked his head. "What's that?"

"Special cellphone."

"For me?"

"No," Castiel butted in. "Is for me."

Dean rolled his eyes at him. "You're more fun when you're not sassy."

"You're lying."

"You two get along like when you were children," Viktor said, waving the phone at Dean for him to take as he turned to look back out the front of the car. "Always bicker. Just waiting for you two to break something."

Dean looked up from his phone. "What?"

"What you mean, 'what'?"

"When we were children? Did we… know each other?"

"Of course!" Viktor said, looking back over his shoulder once again. "You not remember?"

"I don't remember much," Dean added. "Kind of dark times for my family."

Viktor nodded once as Castiel looked on with confusion. "Dark times? All you did was trade with each other."

"His mother, Castiel."

"What happened?"

"She died," Dean said, looking down at his hands. "I was pretty young. Only seven."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

It was quiet for a minute before Viktor continued, trying to lighten the mood. "But yes. You knew each other. Castiel was the one who insisted on a bounce castle for your party, and you two got angry and began to fight. You tore a part of castle out."

"We didn't," Dean said in disbelief, relaxing back in his chair.

"You did. Your father and I had climb in to pull you two out."

"How'd we pop the castle?"

"You both had pocket knives."

"I did?"

"You got set for birthday. Gave one to Castiel."

"We were fighting with them?"

"We did a lot," Castiel added. He reached across the seat to tug down the corner of Dean's shirt, pointing to the faded white scar just under his collar bone. "Ever wonder where that come from?"

"You, I suppose."

Castiel nodded. "I have one on thigh. You tore my jeans."

"You let us play with knives?" Dean asked Viktor.

"I let you stay at your house. Like I say before. Your father; great brewer, horrible man."

"I don't find it quite so surprising anymore," Dean said, and Viktor laughed.

"Just glad you never killed or hurt too bad. You not know how to use knives back then."

"I still don't know how to use knives," Dean said, though he didn't receive a response as they had just pulled in to a car dealer. On either side of him were lines of luxury and expensive cars, from Mercedes-Benz, to Cadillacs, to Ferraris, a few high-priced used vehicles scattered between them. Dean's eyes widened. "What are we doing here?"

"Castiel tell you we getting new cars, right?"

"Uhh, yeah, but I thought he was kidding."

"Not kidding," Castiel said, brushing passed Dean to one of the huge SUVs. He had to hop up in to it, and Dean was surprised that it was unlocked. He walked around to the other side, hopping up in to the passenger seat beside Castiel. "I should get this. I like Hummers. They feel good."

Dean tried not to see the innuendo in that. "What did you have before?"

"A Bentley. It destroyed now. I like to see assholes try destroy me in  _this_."

"You'd just run them over."

"Exactly," Castiel said, running his hand across the smooth dash toward Dean and then back. "Let's go look at Ferraris."

"I thought you wanted an SUV."

"Doesn't mean we can't drive other cars."

And drive them they did.

Castiel had chosen a red one, and Dean had taken a yellow one. A race track or sorts had been in the back of the dealer beside a dirt track for testing Jeeps and other off-road vehicles. They sped around it a number of times, Castiel beating Dean out using whatever driving skills he had garnered over the years. Dean was a little more sloppy, not even having a car to his name previously. He had used his fathers car on occasion, when he needed to get to work or take Sam somewhere and his father wasn't available (or sober), and that was it.

Castiel had settled on the Hummer he'd originally been in, but Dean was more hesitant.

"I don't want a car."

"You get a car."

"I  _can't_  get a car. I can't afford any of these, and I'm not letting you buy me a car."

"It's not a choice, Winchester," Viktor finalized. "Choose one."

He chose a Jeep in similar size to Castiel's. Dean rode with Castiel back as Viktor had to drive it back for him because Dean had no license, his wallet left back at the lifeguard stand.

He was handed the keys once home, and Castiel led him back up to their rooms. Dean had just begun to unpack his new clothes when Castiel walked in to his room, flopping on his bed, two pairs of the silken panties in his hands. Dean looked at him, stepping in to his closet to put a pair of shoes away. He paused. "What's with the panties?"

"They yours."

"Oh, no no no," Dean said, walking to grab some more clothes from the bags, carrying a few shirts into his closet. "I didn't want any.  _You_ did."

"And I want give some to you."

Dean stopped by his bed. "And why's that?"

"You look sexy in them," Castiel said, siting up on the bed. He swung his feet around to the side Dean was standing on,pushing himself up to stand. He was close to Dean, but not too close for either of them, despite that their arms were touching.

Castiel turned to Dean, and Dean half turned to Castiel, shuffling his feet just a bit. "How would you know that?" he muttered.

"Just a guess," he replied, leaning in to mutter in Dean's ear, slipping a few of his fingers in to Dean's waistband, tugging it a small bit away from his hips. He tucked the pairs of panties in, his fingers brushing against the v of his hips outside his boxers as he slipped them out, letting the waistband relax again. "You can show me later."

Dean exhaled shakily as Castiel stepped away from him, fingers brushing against his hips as he sauntered away, leaving Dean's room to return to his own, clicking the door shut behind him. Dean turned and slumped down to the floor in front of his bed, head falling back on the mattress. That had been intense, and a bit weird.

He took a brief moment to collect himself before starting up on putting his clothes away. Once satisfied with how his closet was organized, he stepped in to his bathroom, using some of the body wash he'd been given to clean himself up in the shower. He felt refreshed and relaxed as he stepped out, only for his mood to fall, as well as his towel, the moment he saw Castiel laying on his bed.

He dropped down to pick up his towel, scrambling to wrap it back around his body as he stood once more. "Jesus christ! Why are you in here!?"

"Need to get you. Show you how to use gun." He patted the gun laying beside him on his bed.

"You couldn't have waited!?"

"Nope." Castiel was playing on his phone, laying on his back on Dean's bed, and Dean walked over, snatching the device from his hands. "He-"

"No! Get out!"

"No."

"Yes."

"No." Castiel sat up on the bed, reaching in to his pants, worming his gun out.

Dean grabbed the gun beside Castiel on the bed, pointing it at him. "Yes."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "That gun not loaded." He cocked his gun, pointing it at Dean as he stood, the few extra inches he had on him definitely a detriment to Dean acting strong. He swallowed, and Castiel grinned. "Mine is."

"…Huge dick…" Dean muttered under his breath, dropping his unloaded gun away from Castiel as well as his cellphone to the floor.

"I know it is."

"No that's not- Whatever." Dean dropped it as Castiel took the gun from his hand.

"Whatever you meant, it not matter. It true either way."

"That's not something to be proud of."

"One of them is." Castiel stepped behind Dean, pressing up against him. Dean growled, rolling his towel a bit tighter around his hips. He reached forward to grab Dean's hands, holding them perpendicular to his body as he slipped the gun back in to one of them. "So, first, turn off the safety." Dean did. "Now you need to hold steady." Castiel brought Dean's other hand up to rest under the gun. "Close one eye to aim, and that's it."

"I just pull the trigger?"

Castiel hummed in response, lips near Dean's ear, causing him to shiver. Castiel just pressed closer. "Aiming takes bit of practice, but we can work on later."

"So what do we do in the meantime?"

Castiel was pressed impossibly close to Dean, and while the other had no idea why, he wasn't about to complain, the slightly taller man's nose in his hair, his lips behind his ear. "I have few ideas."

"Like what?" Castiel hummed quietly, sliding his hands down from Dean's to his hips, fingers splaying out, half over the towel and half over his skin. Dean dropped the gun to the floor as his hands fell with it, covering Castiel's. "I don't think we should do this?"

"Do what?"

"You know."

It took a minute, but Castiel finally back away from Dean with a sigh, his hands dropping from his hips. "We talk later," Castiel said as he walked by Dean to leave his room, fingertips brushing against the bare skin of his waist as he passed.

"About what?" Dean asked, though Castiel was gone into his own room, door shut behind him. Dean let out a shaky exhale as he waled to his own door, clicking it shut before letting his towel drop to the ground. He found himself a pair of boxers, the new ones Castiel had chosen for him, and lay on top of his bed in them, calming himself down from the earlier experience.

Dinner had been nice and quiet, the food once again amazing, and Dean really wasn't surprised when Castiel asked him to accompany him back up to their rooms to retire for the night. "Goodnight," he said to the table, which was made up of Viktor along with Alona and a friend.

"Good night," Viktor said in return as he hugged Castiel, kissing his temple. "You be good," he muttered to Castiel.

"When I not good?"

Viktor laughed, his deep bellow echoing around the two of them. "I see the look on your face."

"What look?"

Viktor laughed again. " _Be good_."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Okay."

"Okay." Viktor kissed his temple again. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Viktor let go of his son, and Castiel turned to walk away. Dean waited until the other was in front of him, following him closely out of the room. "Where are your other sisters?"

"Anna and Rachel are visiting Mom-"

"-You have two sisters with names that start with 'A'?"

"Yes," Castiel replied, slightly irritated with the interruption. "Mom name is Alona, and her sister is Anna, that why. Hester is off studying, and Michelle is engaged."

"Isn't she the youngest?"

"Who cares," Castiel replied. They'd reached the top of the stairs, and Dean was yanked back as he made to turn in to his room. He, instead, was pulled in to Castiel's room, shoved up against the wall beside the door as it was closed. "I have a proposition for you," Castiel said, nosing up Dean's neck, pinning his shoulders to the wall.

"And wha- oh!" Castiel kissed right below where Dean's ear met his jaw, his lips cool and soft against his skin "What's that?"

"You're hot, Dean. Sexy"

"A-and?" Castiel kissed the hollow of Dean's neck, running his nose up to beneath his chin, pressing another kiss. Dean shivered, hands linking behind Castiel's back in the small. The other's tall and lean body was pressed solidly up against his own.

"And I haven't been laid in a year."

"So you want to have sex with me?"

"More than that," Castiel muttered, licking a line up Dean's neck, stopping at his pulse point. "Call it, uhh… friends with benefits."

"So you want to have  _lots_  of sex with me?"

"Oh yes." Castiel attacked his lips to Dean's pulse point, sucking a bruise in to place. Dean felt like pushing him away, the mark sure to be far too visible, but it felt too good for him to stop it. He curled his fingers in to Castiel's back on either side of his spine, and Castiel pulled away, smirking lightly. "We also make out, maybe do some other stuff…"

"So, like a relationship?"

"Without all the love, and dates, and… schmoopy things, yes."

"So, friends with benefits?"

Castiel backed himself away just enough to look in to Dean's eyes without straining or crossing his own. "How can I make more clear? Yes. Friends with benefits."

"Why haven't you kissed me yet?"

"What do you mean? I have."

"On the lips," Dean explained.

"Will once I hear answer."

Dean was quiet for a moment, his fingers still pressed in to Castiel's back, his shoulders still pinned to the wall by Castiel's hands. "Can I think about it?"

Castiel nodded. "It only eight now. Come back… eleven or midnight. Tell me then."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Castiel stepped back from Dean after sucking another bruise in to his neck, this one low enough to be hidden by one of the button-ups Castiel had picked for him earlier that day. It took a moment, but Dean was finally able to push himself away from the wall, his hand brushing against Castiel's hip as the other's ran down his arm. He stopped right beside Castiel, turning just enough to kiss his jaw before moving on, leaving his room.

Once back in what he considered to be his room, though it was still new and relatively unfamiliar, he flopped on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

The touches and innuendo and longing stares throughout the day now made sense to him, but it'd been just a day that Castiel had known Dean, excluding their childhood. Was he really that desperate to be with someone that he couldn't wait? But then again, Castiel was  _very_ attractive, and seeing him do what he had done the day before, in terms of fighting and generally being a badass in Dean's eyes… Well, it'd been hot. He couldn't deny that. And it'd turned him on. He didn't  _want_ to deny that.

And Dean was always up for getting laid.

Always.

But the  _commitment_ , if you could call it that, of labeling themselves as 'friends with benefits' bothered Dean. What if he couldn't handle the uncertainty of their relationship? What if it was too much for him to deal with? What if Castiel sucked in bed?

Dean shook his head.

Castiel wouldn't suck in bed.

Dean was left to himself and his thoughts on the entire relationship and its possibilities while Castiel lay on his bed in his room, doing quite the opposite, his hand in his pants as he played on his phone, switching between videos of porn and stupid youtube videos.

He wasn't quite in the mood to get himself off, much more interested in Dean doing so for him, but it was worth the effort, he decided, to calm himself down before Dean returned with his answer in a few hours.

Both were nervous, Castiel's out of excitement, and Dean's out of worry, but lingering feelings and emotions were tied in for different reasons neither one could truly explain.

Dean turned to look at his clock. He had another 3 or more hours to himself. He closed his eyes, flipping his hands behind his head, making a makeshift pillow instead of reaching up to just grab one. He felt he needed to sleep on it, and sleep on it he did.

  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forget if I did this in earlier chapters, but just as a reminder, there is the potential of: Character death (may be major), abuse, lots of violence, sexual abuse, other triggering things. If you have any questions, feel more than free to ask.
> 
> On top of that, I'm sorry it took 2 weeks to update. I was thinking about just not updating until I have he whole story written, but as I've already started publishing it, I'd like to know why those of you who read this think? Please let me know! 
> 
> Thank you!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***SPOILER ALERT or something*** sexytimes ahead ***

 

 

Dean woke up around 2am, his vision bleary and his mind confused as he looked around his room. He'd originally fallen asleep clothed and on top of his bed, but he was now down to his boxers, tucked somewhat awkwardly under his comforter, his body in a new position after seemingly being dragged higher up on his bed to rest on his pillows.

It was strangely comforting.

It was a few minutes before Dean finally rolled his head to side to check the time, and immediately sat straight up, furiously rubbing his eyes, trying to wake himself up. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck," he muttered to himself as he slid to the edge of them bed. He pushed himself to his feet, letting his body balance out before he padded to his door and out of his room.

Castiel's door was shut, and it looked dark inside, but Dean still went in. The only light coming in was from the moon shining through the window above Castiel's bed, faintly illuminating the sleeping man, who had headphones in as he slept with his back toward Dean and his face close to the wall.

Dean shut the door quietly behind him as he tiptoed forward to Castiel's bed, siting on the mattress beside the other. "Castiel," he whispered, eyes roaming over his sheet-covered body, the thin cotton clinging to his body, outlining it, showing off the shape of his hips poking out from the rest of his body. "Castiel," he whispered again, reaching forward to place his hand over Castiel's hips. He shook it lightly. "Castiel. Castiel. Castiel. Cas-"

The rest of Dean's words were muffled as Castiel rolled over, grabbing Dean's arms, flipping him on to his back as he straddled his hips, pocket knife flicked out and pressed to Dean's neck. One of his earbuds had been yanked from his ear, and it was swinging in between the two of them. Dean could hear soft sounds coming from it, and he was surprised Castiel could be so stoic while such pleasant sounds were playing.

Dean cleared his throat weakly, trying to get Castiel to move the knife, but he just pressed it down harder, his eyes piercing in to Dean's. "What you doing?" he asked, voice impossibly more deep that it normally was, the scratchiness of sleep still wearing on it.

Dean was nervous to answer, afraid of the knife brushing the wrong way against his throat. "You told me to come tell you my answer."

"Yes. At midnight."

"I didn't think you'd care about the time."

"I was sleeping."

"I'm sorry."

Castiel relaxed his arm, sliding his knife away from Dean's neck. Dean took in a deep breath, feeling his adams apple slide up and back down as he swallowed. Noticing Castiel's eyes were still locked on his own, he swallowed again, and Castiel spoke. "So, you have chose?"

"What?"

"You made decision?"

"Sorta."

Castiel sighed and slid of of Dean's hips, tucking his sheet around him, hiding himself despite the fact he had his boxers on. "What that mean?"

"I mean… I don't know. Shouldn't we be friends before we do this? You know,  _friends_ with benefits?"

"We are friends."

"I don't know anything about you."

"Better if you don't."

"Better if I do," Dean replied, finally pushing himself to sit up. "Those are my… situational agreements. You become friends with me, and in turn, we can have sex."

"And if I don't agree?"

"I'm perfectly comfortable with jacking myself off."

"Even with me right here waiting?"

"You make it sound like you're going to be some fuck toy to me."

Castiel settled back against his bed. "Aren't I?"

"Is that all I'd be to you?"

"I don't know. Too early to think." Castiel grabbed one of Dean's hands, pulling it over to rest low on his stomach. "Let's fuck."

"The more you talk to me, the sooner we have sex."

Castiel rolled his eyes with a groan. "I not like talking."

"Seriously?"

"It weird. I not know you anymore."

"Exactly. And yet you want to have sex with me."

"You want to have sex with me too!"

"But I at least want it to mean something!"

"It sex! It not have to mean anything!"

Their voices were growing progressively louder, but they took note of it, taking a moment to calm themselves before Dean continued. "What do you mean 'it doesn't mean anything'? Of course it does."

"I've had sex with people before. No it doesn't."

"Were they one-night stands?"

"Essentially," Castiel nodded.

"But this won't be. Can't you see how bad it would be for us to treat it like it is?"

"I don't get what be so bad. No, it not  _really_ like one night stand, but it… is."

"How?"

"It like multiple ones in row."

Dean shook his head, crossing his arms as he tucked his knees up. "Whatever you say. I'm not doing it unless we're closer." Castiel scooted closer to Dean. He earned a glare. " _Emotionally_ closer."

Castiel rolled his eyes, scooting back away from Dean, pressing in to the wall, leaning on it instead of the bed. "Then leave. I have no use for you anymore."

That hurt. "No use? At all?" Castiel shook his head. "Fine. Then let me go home."

"I don't want you dead."

"I didn't see anyone after us today!"

"Don't think they'd notice you if went in to  _actual_ public?

"Won't know until I try!" Dean shoved himself off of Castiel's bed after turning his body to let his feet rest on the ground.

Castiel glared at him. "See you at your funeral."

"Yep," Dean said, stepping out of Castiel's room, slamming the door behind him. He walked back in to his own room, clicking the door shut quietly. He slammed himself on to his bed, flipping on to his back, arms pressed to his sides and in to the mattress. Eyes glared hard at the ceiling, fingers clenching and unclenching in the bed-sheet below him.

The fact that Castiel hadn't even been willing to  _try_ what Dean had suggested. It wasn't like he was asking for a relationship. He wasn't asking for cuddling and soft kisses and  _romantic_  things. All he wanted was to know a  _little bit_  about the man who he'd be fucking, or being fucked by, and Castiel had shot him down without a second thought.

Dean rolled his eyes over to look at the clock, the light flashing slightly after 2:30a.m.

He groaned, punching the pillow with his head as he tried to make it comfortable, his fingers gradually beginning to relax along with the rest of his body as time ticked slowly on.

It was another thirty or forty minutes, Dean was unsure, before anything happened. His door creaked open slightly and quietly, the only give away being the extra light flowing in from the outside hallway for a brief moment before it was gone just as fast and quietly as it appeared.

Dean didn't hear anything after the nearly-silent shutting of his door, but his bed dipped beside him and a solid warmth was pressed over his hips as Castiel straddled them, hands coming forward to cup his face as he leaned in close, kissing lightly up the side of his neck.

"My favorite color purple," he muttered, pressing a kiss below Dean's jaw. "I hate blue jeans. Any other color fine. Listen to some metal, or hard rock, whichever. But also I listen to the.. acoustic? Yes." He nodded, deciding that was the best phrase for it. Castiel licked up the center of Dean's neck, pressing a kiss to his chin. "I have battle scars because I badass and fight a lot. Don't kiss them. It make me feel weird. Feel free to bite or lick, though."

Dean hadn't said anything, doing nothing more than simply raising his hands to rest high up on Castiel's thighs near his hips, thumbs rubbing in small circles. Castiel nipped over Dean's shoulder. "I broke my arm once on purpose so Alona not feel so out of place when she broke hers. I shaved m-"

"What is this about?"

Castiel paused, pulling back just a bit though his hands remained cupped around Dean's face. "I telling you about me."

"Why?"

"So I can be with you."

"So you can have sex with me?" Dean clarified.

Castiel nodded once, though Dean could barely see. "Yes."

"You're willing to open up to me?"

He hesitated, but nodded again. "Yes."

Dean held on to Castiel's hips as he pulled himself up and Castiel down, bringing his shoulders close enough to kiss. He attached his lips on the slope from his neck to his shoulder, sucking and nipping on the spot as he tugged Castiel to lay flat on top of his as he relaxed back in to the mattress, his pillow cushioning up around him, pressing in to his cheeks.

There was a decent bruise sucked in to Castiel's skin, slight indents from Dean's teeth where he'd bitten him a few times were visible around the gradually darkening spot.

Castiel kissed Dean's temple, and Dean spoke. "I… I don't have any… stuff."

"Come with me." Castiel shoved himself back from Dean, rocking back on his hips before sliding off of the other, earning a whine from Dean at the loss of the pressure above him. He didn't stop, continuing on to the hallways between the two rooms. Dean finally snapped inside of himself, scrambling off of the bed in a half-aroused, half-asleep state, stumbling over his feet as he made his way to Castiel, who grabbed his hips and dragged him in to his room, kissing his jaw before tossing him back on to his bed.

He dropped to his knees on the floor as Dean supported himself on his elbows after crawling properly on to the bed, watching as Castiel rustled through one of his dresser drawers. He pulled out a box of condoms, a few missing. He took one out, dropping the box back in with a quiet thud as he grabbed some lube and hopped back on to the bed, leaving his freshly-grabbed objects off to the side as he crawled over Dean, dipping his head to suck and nip at his jaw.

Castiel was more than excited to get going, knowing full well what was coming. He managed to wedge his hand between Dean and the bed, worming his hand in to Dean's boxers, cupping his ass. Yet another bruise was sucked in to his neck as he gave the flesh under his fingers a squeeze, causing Dean's hips to roll up with a quiet moan. Castiel grinned against his skin. "That's hot."

"What?"

He squeezed his ass again, earning another roll of his hips paired with a moan. "That."

Dean slid one of his hands up from where he'd let them rest on Castiel's hips, fingertips tracing over the bumps of his spine on their way up to tangle in the dark, messy locks of the man above him, raising his head for the mattress to whisper "More where that came from if you'd just fuck me already." by his ear, breath hot over the shell.

That was all the permission Castiel needed to take control, slipping off of Dean's hips, lifting them once off to slide his boxers down before letting them fall to the mattress once more, Castiel's sheets puffing up around him before falling flat, causing a cool brush of air to spread over Dean's skin. He shivered.

Castiel pulled his boxers off the rest of the way, tossing them one direction before taking off his own, dropping them off the foot of the bed before crawling back on to Dean, resting over his thighs now instead of his hips.

Moonlight was glinting in to Castiel's room through his singular window. The broken up stripes of it due to the shades were painted across Castiel's body, and Dean lost himself in the toned, though not over visible muscles across his abdomen. The dark bruise was still in place, making Dean wince internally. It didn't seem to be bothering Castiel, however, who moved without even the slightest detriment in his actions.

Dean watched as his skin folded as he bent over. He only snapped out of his bodily trance as Castiel's tongue fell flat against his half-hard cock, licking up the shaft of it, stopping just at the lip of the head. Dean moaned, and Castiel grinned once again, licking another stripe up the shaft, a hand coming between them to cup and gently massage at Dean's balls.

He peered up at Dean, flicking his tongue out across the tip, earning a moan Dean attempted to hold back, but it barely worked at all, only breaking the involuntary sound in half. With another grin, he was taking Dean in his mouth, his lips closing around his shaft.

Wet heat covered Dean, and he pressed his head in to the mattress. It'd been a while for him, finally deciding to focus on school work in order to graduate, and then work to pay for whatever community college he decided to attend, pushing sex out of the way, and now that he was back to it, he couldn't understand why he'd stopped.

Castiel was bobbing his head at a slow pace, making Dean more hard by the moment. He fisted his fingers in to Castiel's hair, though it fell out a minute later when Castiel pulled away with a pop, kissing up Dean's abdomen.

"Why'd you stop?" Dean asked, voice weak. "It felt good."

"Tease." Castiel grinned, sliding off of Dean's thighs, kissing his legs three times each. "Roll over."

Bottoming was new to Dean. After a beat of hesitation, however, he rolled over. He looked back as far as he could. "I… I'm not too sure about bottoming."

"What so wrong with it?"

"I've never done it before."

Castiel leaned forward, kissing behind Dean's ear. "Just relax. I know what I'm doing. I'll even let you ride me."

Dean nibbled on his lower lip, but nodded. "Okay."

Another kiss was placed behind his ear. "Okay."

Dean relaxed his body, letting Castiel manipulate him how he wanted. His hips were pulled up by an arm slipped underneath him. He brought his knees up to support himself, and Castiel pressed down on the middle of his back, causing him to arch downward, angling his ass higher for Castiel, who spread his legs just a bit. Dean couldn't see much of anything, but he heard the quiet uncapping of the lube, and he  _definitely_ felt Castiel's slicked finger circling around his entrance with gentle pressure, pushing in with little warning.

Dean gasped and his muscles clenched. Castiel used his free hand to massage Dean's back, up near the small, relaxing him gradually. "I know it feel weird, but it do feel good."

Castiel was surprisingly more gentle with Dean than he'd initially anticipated after spending around 2 days with the man, but it wasn't a bad thing. More of a pleasant misjudgment than a disappointment.

He was careful with what he was doing, ensuring Dean was plenty stretched and ready to take him on.

Castiel pulled away and moved to lean back, angled against the headboard of the bed, grabbing and tearing the foil-packaged condom open. Dean pushed himself up from where he'd been laying, watching Castiel roll the rubber down and over himself.

He was finally able to take in Castiel completely, and he wasn't disappointed. He wasn't overly long -definitely not short- but he was thick. Dean knew women would kill to have a man with a cock like that, and he hoped he'd feel the same way when this was over with.

Castiel was done with the condom, now focusing on putting enough lube on himself to make it comfortable for Dean, who had crawled over Castiel's legs, sitting on them as he waited. Castiel looked up when he was done, gesturing Dean forward. He crawled up his body, attempting to kiss Castiel, but only getting his cheek in return.

Hands were on his hips a moment later, pulling him in to place. Castiel looked up to him, locking their eyes. "Take it slow. I won't rush you."

"You're very understanding about this."

"I know what it like to bottom. It can be pretty intense first time."

Dean nodded, and Castiel returned it, hands holding steady on Dean's hips, keeping him angled and in the right place, letting Dean lower himself down. When he was ready, he slowly let himself relax down on Castiel, pushing the tip in.

Castiel's hold on Dean's hips began to waver as the other man lowered himself down, the tight heat surrounding him feeling so good after so long without it. He had to hold himself back from pushing up as Dean continued moving down, gradually taking all of Castiel in.

Dean had pressed himself down as far as he could, the back of his thighs pressed against the front of Castiel's. Nails were dug in to Dean's hips, and then gone, pressing in to his back moments later as Castiel tugged their abdomens together, pressing his cheek to Dean's chest as he breathed hard, his breath brushing across his skin.

"Feel so good," Castiel breathed. "Been so long. You so  _tight_ …." He shakily exhaled, relaxing his fingers, leaving half crescents in rows of four down either side of Dean's spine. He let their abdomens separate just a breadth. "God."

Dean had his hands on Castiel's shoulders, keeping him decently close. "You're big."

"You get used to it."

"When?"

"You know."

Dean  _did_ know. It was as if all of his muscles relaxed at once after a few minutes, his body finally adjusted to the completely unfamiliar feeling of another man inside of him. It wasn't unpleasant, and his body wasn't protesting anymore. He just felt full. He shifted his hips, and Castiel gasped.

"You ready?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"Then move."

It took another moment, but Dean finally began to move, Castiel sliding his hands back down to his hips to help him. He didn't move far up before sliding back down, hands tightening on Castiel's shoulders to support himself.

Castiel was utterly complacent and patient with Dean's unsure movements and actions, so different from how Dean had seen him before, doing nothing more than gently guiding him along, letting out little moans every time Dean let himself slide back down.

He, once again, wasn't complaining. It was just new.

"I'm going to do something," Castiel muttered after a good minute. Dean went up on his cock, and his hands tightened on Dean's hips as he pressed his own down in to the mattress, only raising them back up to meet Dean as he came down with his hips in a slight roll from Castiel's gentle guidance with his hands.

He moaned at the new and needed friction between them, and Dean tightened his fingers around Castiel's shoulders. "Like that? You want that?"

Castiel nodded. "Just like that."

Dean nodded once before lifting his hips again, watching as Castiel's abdomen muscles stretched as he pushed his own down, and how they relaxed as he moved them back up, meeting Dean in the middle with a roll and a moan.

He didn't know how it happened, but their pace gradually grew faster, falling in synch with each other without so much as a word spoken between them, aside from the occasional moan or curse word slipping from their lips.

The gradual tightening of Castiel's fingers around Dean's hips, and the slight loss of rhythm gave away that Castiel was close to finishing, but Dean still asked, his breath shaky as he fucked himself down on Castiel's cock. "Are you-"

"-Close? Y-es." Castiel bit his lip, fucking harder up in to Dean, biting back his moans the best he could. "Very clo-ose."

Dean leaned in closer to Castiel, dipping his head down to suck on his neck the best he could with their bodies moving in near opposite directions as they fucked.

"Dean," Castiel whined after a minute, pressing his head back in to the headboard. He let out a strain of russian, what Dean could only assume contained cuss words as his hips bucked up in to Dean haphazardly, loosing his restraints from earlier. Dean kept the rhythm himself, urging Castiel on. "Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean… Oh… God-shit!"

Castiel's fingers dug in to Dean's hips, his nails carving half-crescents in to his skin nearly immediately. He let out a whine of a moan in to Dean's chest as he tugged him close, pressing their abdomens together again. Whispered words of mingled russian and english slipped through his lips nearly breathlessly, his fingers squeezing even harder in to Dean's hips briefly before relaxing with the rest of his body as he came down from his high, his stuttering hips finally calming down.

After a moment, Castiel pushed up on Dean's hips, urging him off of him and on to the bed, laying on his back with his head on Castiel's pillows. His recovery time was remarkably short, Dean decided, as Castiel had rolled over on to his knees, one hands barring himself up as he kissed down Dean's neck, shoulder, arm, and hand, kissing down to the end of his fingers.

Dean shivered at how strange it felt, though didn't protest as Castiel let his fingers fall back to the mattress, kissing his thigh and up to his hip. He straddled Dean's legs as he wrapped his fingers around the base of Dean's cock, leaning down to kiss up the shaft and tip, flicking his tongue out before taking him in his mouth.

Dean pressed his head down in to the pillows, rolling his eyes back to stare at the wall behind him, focusing on Castiel's warm mouth and plump lips wrapped tightly around him, the texture of his tongue pressed against his shaft. He moaned, stretching his fingers down to run through Castiel's hair, musing them before tugging, locking his fingers around the dark trusses.

Castiel hummed as his hair was tugged, and Dean moaned again, rolling his hips up in to Castiel's mouth. He didn't receive protest from it, so he did it again. Castiel pulled away with a smirk, and Dean whined. "Take a lot more than that make me choke."

"That a dick joke, or can you deep-throat?"

"Both." Castiel smirked again, taking Dean in completely, and Dean tugged on his hair again.

"You're so hot," Dean said after minute, straining his neck to look down his body at Castiel, tugging again on his hair with a moan. "So fucking hot." Castiel hummed in response, and Dean rolled his hips, stuttering as they fell back down.

"I'm close," he warned, though Castiel didn't relent even a bit, beginning to hum without wavering, hand coming down to massage Dean's balls again. Dean had never had that done before, but it sure felt good. "Really. I'm close."

Castiel still didn't back off, so Dean gave him one final tug on his hair as warning before slamming his head back in to the pillows beneath him, fingers still tight in his hair, using the locks as something for him to hold on to.

"Jesus… Oh god… Jesus… Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…" he repeated, squeezing his eyes just tight, hips bucking up against his control. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fu-Oh!" Dean came without much more of a warning than that, shooting hot down Castiel's throat, though the other didn't complain, just sucking Dean through it, swallowing down what he could when he could.

Castiel only pulled away when Dean's hips fell still and he'd sucked him dry. He pulled away with a pop and crawled off of his bed, stepping in to his bathroom to remove his condom before coming back, collapsing on the bed beside Dean, who curled in to him, kissing his neck. "You swallowed."

"You let me shove my dick in you. It least I can do," he replied, grabbing Dean's hand, holding on to two of his fingers.

"That's blunt," Dean muttered, looking down at their hands. "Thought you didn't want to do the handholding-cuddling thing."

"I don't. Cuddling not my thing. This just for now."

"So I go back to my room in a few minutes?"

Castiel nodded, turning his head to look at Dean, who's face was right by his shoulder. "Yes. Unless you want stay, but it not be different than like… sleep night."

"Sleep over?"

Castiel nodded. "Only had one of those before."

"Only one?"

"Yes. With you."

Dean smiled faintly. "Really?"

"Father had go to visit mother, but it your birthday, and I not want leave, so I stayed with you at your house."

"I only had this shitty little mattress when I was young…"

"We shared it anyway."

Dean chuckled quietly. "I could see that. I wish I could remember back then." Castiel smiled, but it was only a flash before his face fell once again. Dean knitted his brows. "What's that face about?"

"… You not remember  _anything_  from when we kids, do you?"

Dean shook his head. "Most of it's a blur. I barely even remember when my mom died."

"I never know she died. It happen when you seven, right?" Dean nodded. "I should have known. I stop seeing her around, but I thought she like my mom. Go somewhere else to be safe…" Castiel rolled his eyes. "I bad friend."

"You were… nine or ten. It's not your duty to know things never told to you."

"Still feel bad."

"Don't." Dean nudged Castiel's jaw to get in at his neck, kissing the soft skin there. He yawned as he pulled away and sat up. "I'm tired. I… I think I'll go to bed now." He looked back at Castiel, moving it to kiss him. Castiel turned away. That hurt. "Why won't you kiss me?"

"I swallowed."

"So?"

"I don't want you to taste it."

"I don't care," Dean said, moving in for another kiss, but Castiel turned away again.

"I do."

With a huff of a breath, Dean was leaning in a gain, moving fast, managing to kiss the far corner of Castiel's lips more on his cheek than anything, which stilled the other, letting the kiss last longer than just a swift peck.

Dean pulled away, scooting to the edge of the bed, pushing himself to his feet. He found his boxers, or at least a pair that looked like his, and slipped them on. "Uhh… Goodnight, Castiel."

Castiel wedged himself in to his blankets, watching as Dean walked to the door. "Goodnight."

Dean paused to nod once at Castiel as a final goodbye before leaving, clicking his door shut behind him.

He stumbled in to his own room, flopping on to his bed. His muscles felt a bit sore, despite that the sex really hadn't been too trying nor aggressive. One of the perks of being a bottom, he decided as he curled up under his comforter, grateful for how silky and cool the sheets were against his still-hot skin.

He fell asleep easily, but didn't sleep for long, waking up around 6 hours later. Another half hour passed before he decided to actually get out of bed to shower.

The water was hot and stung his skin, but he got used to it quickly, enjoying how it relaxed his still-tense and sore muscles from the night before, he could only assume. It was a difficult choice to get out, but he didn't want to waste all of the hot water. The air was cool, sending a shock through his body, forcing him to dress quickly.

Tossing on clothes he'd never really worn before was strange, and the fineness and crispness of the clothes was new to him, never really having a lot of truly new clothes, his father never in the mood to take he or Sam shopping, or leave enough money for the both of them when Dean offered to drive them to the mall. Sam would be the one to get new clothes, and Dean would take what was left to the nearest thrift shop.

He always got what he needed, but it was never anything this nice. He tugged at the sleeve of the button-up, the seams tight and sturdy. He swallowed, eyeing himself -or what he could see of himself- in the sliver of the bathroom mirror reflecting his image. He looked good.

Running a hand through his hair, he turned to leave his room, slipping his phone in to his pocket. He shut his door, looking up at the click shortly after his own. Castiel was standing right outside of his door, quite the contrast in his appearance to Dean. He had a rumpled look to him, scruff on his face, his t-shirt a bit too small, fitting him tightly, and his jeans ripped, his hair spiked up in every direction.

Dean smirked. "I do that to you?"

Castiel touched his hair. "This? Yes."

Dean's smirk grew. "Looks good on you."

"Know what look good on you?" Castiel asked, stepping to Dean, his eyes glinting with a nearly predatory look. He pressed Dean in to his door with one had, stepping close, their chests touching.

"What?" Dean breathed, peering to look down the hall to the stairwell. He saw no one.

Castiel smirked, looking up in to Dean's eyes briefly. His hand slid to the back of Dean's neck, holding on to the baby hairs there, nudging his jaw up with his nose to get back to the spot where his jaw, ear, and neck met. He flicked his tongue out against the spot before attaching his lips, sucking hard, pinning Dean more in to the door.

Dean brought a hand up to tangle in Castiel's hair, and that's when he pulled away, reaching back to smack Dean's hand away. "You had your fun last night."

"Sorry. Hard to resist."

"Tame yourself."

"Why?" he asked, holding on to Castiel's hips instead.

Castiel stepped back. "Because it time for lunch, and you have visible hickeys."

Dean reached up to feel his throat, rubbing over where he knew a few bruises were. Castiel laughed at him and turned, walking to the stairwell.

"Hey!" Dean followed after him, falling in to step with him as they walked down the stairs. He reached behind Castiel, resting his hand on his ass, squeezing. Castiel didn't complain. "So what's your dad gonna think about this?"

"You hickeys and my sex hair?" Dean nodded. "He not care. Well, he will if he know you do anything to me."

"So you can fuck me, but I can't fuck you?"

"You fuck me all you want," Castiel replied, turning around one of the corners. Dean dropped his hand from his ass. "He just not know. I not fuck you, either, if make you feel better. But I can say I drunk and give you hickeys."

"Have you done that before?"

"Yes."

Dean laughed as the made their way down the last sweeping stairwell, landing in the foyer. He let his pace fall, following Castiel down the hallway to the dining room. Viktor was already seated, along with Alona and her friend down at the opposite end of the table.

Alona's friend looked up as they entered, waggling her fingers at Dean with a slight smile as she dragged her eyes up and down his body. Dean waved back, though was snapped out of it, his attention back to Castiel as Viktor sighed. "Castiel. I said be good."

"I  _was_  good," Castiel responded, sitting down beside his father, gesturing for Dean to join him, though Viktor was up on his feet and by Dean in one step, a hand on his shoulder, the other on his neck.

"This not look like good," he said, gesturing to the bruises on Dean's neck. Alona and her friend were now watching intently, Castiel's sister trying to hide her grin.

"We got in fight. Those choke bruises."

"No,  _you_  have choke bruises. These not choke bruises."

Dean squirmed uncomfortably under the gaze of all who were in the dining room, wanting to sit down and hide himself. Castiel rolled his eyes. "I was drunk. Too much vodka at dinner."

"So you do this to him?"

Castiel nodded. "It fun. His skin nice and soft." Dean cheeks tinted red, burning his skin down to his neck, and the girls giggled.

"Castiel," Viktor warned. "I said be good."

"I was good.  _Very good_."

"Very good? What, you have sex?" Viktor turned his attention to Dean. "You have sex with my son!?"

Dean's eyes were wide. "What!? No! I would never-"

"-What, too good for him?"

 _What?_  "What!? No! If anything, he's too good for me. I mean, he's so, so,  _so_  hot, a-"

"-What!?"

"I don't know what you want me to say!" Dean was lost, and confused, and quite frankly a bit scared of how large Viktor was next to him, and that his hand still hadn't left his neck. He could kill him in an instant.

Castiel had his lips sucked between his teeth, his eyes light, trying not to laugh, though Alona couldn't hold it back anymore. "Daddy, stop! You scaring poor boy."

"He defiled my son!"

"No I didn't!" That wasn't exactly a lie.

"Who care, Daddy! Castiel twenty! He can have boyfriend if he want."

"We did nothing," Castiel finally added. "I went in Dean's room, tried kissing him, then… that what happen. He not fight me, but he not support it. I did it."

Viktor finally backed off of Dean, which sent a flood of relief through the teen. "He not do anything to you?"

Castiel shook his head. "No. It all me."

Viktor sighed, gesturing for Dean to sit down as he did so himself. "I say be good, and you do opposite."

"It not big deal. Father, I twenty. Dean eighteen. We not do anything, but we could if want."

"Not under my roof."

"Father!"

"My rules." Viktor sighed. "You my only son. I want you safe."

"Dean not dangerous."

"You know what I mean."

Castiel rolled his eyes, reaching forward to grab a sandwich off of the platter one of the staff had set down just moments before. "Can't protect me forever. And we not even do anything. Just friends."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Just friends."

Viktor sighed once again. "Let's eat."

After lunch, Mychalla showed up, taking Dean out for a run down the fenced in beach around all of the houses in the fence, despite Dean's protests to it. He'd only agreed to go when Viktor reminded him that it was part of his job, and Castiel had whispered in his ear that he'd have something  _extra_ special for him that night if he went.

When they got back, Dean was exhausted, but he wasn't done. More martial arts training, if you could call it that, and Dean was finally allowed to take a break.

He thought he'd been sore the night before.

He was trudging through the main foyer, hoping to get up to his room, but no such luck was awarded to him. A hand hand its fingers gripping tight to the sleeve of his shirt, and he was tugged down a hallway underneath the sweeping stairway and down a short flight of steps.

There was a cement room they emerged in, and Dean finally decided to see who had dragged him down. "Castiel, seriously? I wanna shower."

"I have to show how to use gun."

"Didn't you do that yesterday?" he asked as Castiel handed him earmuffs and glasses. Dean hooked the earmuffs around his neck, sliding on the glasses before being handed a handgun.

"Make sure you know how to use, and how to aim. Not hard, but… still. Could mean life or death."

"That's comforting."

"It should be."

After he put on his earmuffs, Dean cocked the gun like Castiel had showed him the day before, turning and aiming at the figurine at the end of one of the three shooting stalls in the cement room. He pulled the trigger, and the gun fired off, the bullet whizzing passed the figure, hitting the wall, bouncing off and clattering to the ground, the sound of metal clinking around the room.

"Maybe aim," Castiel supplied, stepping behind Dean. He brought his arms up from behind him, showing him to support the gun properly. "Close one eye," he said. Dean did. "Now aim for the target. Shoot when ready." He stepped back, giving Dean a moment to shoot.

The gun fired off, and this time it hit the figure, buzzing through it, the metal shell nuzzling in to the sand bag behind it. His goal was the center, and he just a bit off it, but he was proud of himself regardless. Castiel stepped up behind him again, kissing his ear. "Good. Do again."

"If you kiss me again."

"After you do it."

Dean shot the gun again, hitting about where he had the last time. Castiel kissed his neck.

"I can get used to that."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already got a jump on the next chapter so it may not take as long to get out as this one!
> 
> Till next time


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so SO sorry this took so long.

 

* * *

Their routine followed as such after that first day. Dean woke up, ate breakfast or lunch, depending on when he woke up, went on a run before self defense and general training, then ate dinner and spent some time with Castiel before going back to their rooms, having sex and cuddling before going to bed. It was a routine he didn't intend to break, perfectly content with it all.

He hadn't heard from his family, but he really didn't think he would. He left a few messages, and tried to call when Sam would pick up, but it never worked out. School was around the starting point, however, and he'd gotten word from one of his ex coworkers when he called in to let them know he wouldn't be returning that Sam was just fine, though missed his big brother more than anything.

Everything was perfectly fine until Dean remembered that Viktor actually had to  _do_ something to earn the money that he did, and warrant bodyguards for him and his family.

"You can't wear that to a club," Castiel said, eyeing Dean's outfit disapprovingly. It was evening, Dean called down from his room nearly an hour after dinner.

"You said to blend in!"

"Do you even know what kind of club this is?"

"… There are different types?"

Castiel rolled his eyes, and Viktor shook his head, shooing them out of his office, gesturing for them to get Dean in to something else. Castiel grabbed the cuff of the shirt he had on, dragging him off to his room. He shoved Dean in to his bathroom when he got there, leaving to hunt through his closet before coming back out with something more appropriate.

When he came back in to the bathroom, Dean was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt. Castiel smirked, leaning against the door frame after setting the new clothes on the counter.

Dean looked up about halfway down his shirt. "What are you smirking about?"

"Just watching you strip. It more interesting two nights ago."

Dean locked his eyes on Castiel's, walking toward him, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. He stopped in front of Castiel, reaching out to rest his hands on his hips. "Care to do me the honor?" he asked, tearing his eyes away to look down at his unbuttoned shirt briefly, then back up.

"My pleasure." Castiel grinned, putting his hands on Dean's shoulders, worming his shirt down as he leaned in, attaching his lips to Dean's neck, sucking and kissing, but not hard enough to leave a mark.

He pulled away when Dean's shirt was piled around his wrists, licking his lips. Dean licked his lips as well, waiting a beat before raising one of his hands, cupping Castiel's cheek. He leaned in, about to kiss Castiel before the other turned his head, leaving Dean's lips on his cheek. He didn't give up, however, peppering kisses across his cheeks to the corner of his lips, gently trying to guide Castiel to turn his face back to him, but he wouldn't.

Dean sighed. "We've been fucking for like, a month, and you still won't let me kiss your lips."

"Something wrong with that?"

"Yeah. No…" Dean shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "I mean, I  _really_ want to kiss you, and for some reason, you won't let me."

"It not that great." He looked over to the counter, reaching out to grab Dean's new shirt. He pushed it against his abdomen with more force than was necessary, knocking Dean away from him. "Get dressed."

"Why are you so cold about this?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Because I  _don't_ want to kiss you. I wanted sex, and that what I'm getting. The rest of it fun, sure, but I don't even need that. Don't push me."

Dean shook his head, in dismay over how fast the mood in the room had changed, the sexual charge no longer there. "Whatever. Can you leave?"

"No."

His eyes narrowed. "Get out."

Castiel took an extra moment to rake his eyes over Dean's half-naked body, turning away with a shrug. "You lucky you hot."

Dean made to argue back, half of a word slipping passed his lips, but Castiel whirled around at the sound, his eyebrows arched high in a taunt, daring -just daring Dean to continue. His words fell flat the moment he received the look, and Castiel left with a satisfied smirk.

He was grumbling as he slipped on the new shirt, buttoning up the top few buttons of it before switching in to his pants, trading his nicer suit pants for khakis. He glared down at the article of clothing, upset at how awful they looked on him with his holsters hooked on underneath. They made his thighs look unevenly proportioned to the rest of his body.

There was nothing he could do about it, however, so he made his way down to the main foyer and back up to Viktor's office, receiving a nod of approval from both Castiel and his father, who was one the phone.

"I going in soon," he said as Dean took a seat beside Castiel on one of the chairs along the side of the room. It was the same one he'd been seated in when he was first brought in to this home. Viktor continued to talk as Castiel turned to Dean, leaning forward to get a good look at his face. He reached over, running his fingers through the front of his hair, spiking his bangs up. Dean shook his head, removing Castiel's hand, though the other just dropped his hands to unbutton the top two buttons on Dean's shirt.

He growled. "What are you doing? Are you  _trying_  to make me look like a gay guy?" he muttered under his breath

"Well we going to gay club," was whispered back.

"What?"

Castiel blinked a few times. "I not sure how to explain more."

" _Why_  are we going to a gay club?"

"Father need to talk to owner."

"Can't he just call him?"

"It not work like that," Viktor explain, butting in to their conversation. He looked at the both of them as they sat up straighter, turning their attention to him. He handed Dean a fake ID, Castiel already had one. "You both have guns?" They nodded. "Good. Let's go."

Viktor strode from the room with Dean and Castiel in tow, not bothering to check that they were following.

"So how is this different than a business meeting… of sorts…"

He received no response.

Castiel's posture was more rigid than Dean was used to, and he recognized that stance. He was standing tall, head held high as he followed his father out in to what was essentially the front lines.

He was soldier. "Dude, will you answer me?" Whenever Dean thought he was actually close to him, he pulled something like this, refusing to answer Dean, following his father without question. "Dude?"

Still nothing.

When they arrived at the blacked-out SUV, Mychalla was in the front, ready to drive. Viktor stepped in, followed by Castiel in the back, then Dean, who grabbed Castiel's hand, insisting on an answer. "What are we doing?"

Castiel rolled his eyes, back stiff though he finally looked at Dean. "We going to club."

"What are we  _doing_  at the club?"

"We bait."

" _What?_ "

He received another eye-roll, but Castiel still hadn't taken his hand away, which he considered an improvement. In which way, he wasn't sure, but an improvement nonetheless.

"Not hard to understand," Castiel started. "We bait. He call us in to room, Father breaks in, it all go down, then go home."

Dean was staring with a blank expression, not gathering any of the information -or lack-thereof- that Castiel had attempted to provide. Viktor decided it was his turn to butt in. "All you do, Winchester, is… make out… with my son, wait until one of his men come and get you, then follow them in to back room… Just… follow my boy. When Castiel…  _grinds_  you, you grind back." Viktor shook his head, not agreeing with the words slipping out of his mouth. "When Castiel take out gun, you take out gun. When Castiel shoot, you shoot. That all you need to know."

Dean shook his head. "I still don't understand. Why can't you just walk in there?"

"We not exactly… friends," Viktor explained. "More like ex-acquaintances. He cheat me out of money. I going to get it back."

"So I'm helping you rob someone?"

"Essentially."

"Great."

Castiel laughed quietly. "Don't worry. It be fun."

"Oh totally."

"You be fine. I done this… like four times."

"Won't they recognize you?"

"Maybe."

"That's comforting."

Castiel and his father laughed. "You be fine," they both said, their voices melding in to a deep harmony.

Dean gulped. "If you say so."

They pulled up around the side of the club. Dean could see the line as they passed, disappearing as they turned around a corner. He shook his head. "How're we gonna get in?"

"Wait," Mychalla supplied, parking the car along the back. He left it to idle as Viktor slid out of the car, Castiel followed by Dean in doing the same.

"You boys know what to do?" Castiel nodded, posture straight and stiff. Dean was less sure, but nodded just the same. "Good. Castiel, don't shoot to early. Dean… Don't shoot unless Castiel does."

Dean nodded. "But what if it's to protect Castiel?"

"You not need to protect him if all goes as planned. Don't give away what you're doing there, and don't break character."

"Character?"

"I show you later," Castiel said.

His father stepped to him, pulling him in to a hug. "Be safe."

"I will."

"Good boy." He broke the hug, kissing Castiel's temple before letting him turn to leave.

Dean made to follow after him, but Viktor clapped a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He looked over his shoulder at the man, waiting for an explanation.

"Wait." Dean did, not moving a muscle under Viktor's strong and heavy hand. The elder finally spoke after a few minutes. "You make sure my son stay safe." Dean nodded once. "He my blood. I can't lose him. Make sure he safe."

"I won't let him get hurt. I swear it."

Viktor clapped Dean's shoulder. "Good. Now go."

Dean turned and began to walk away, receiving a clap on his shoulder one last time as he moved just outside of Viktor's reach. The older man slid back in to the car, and the last time Dean looked back, he saw the SUV pulling away, turning around the far corner away from him.

This was it. This was when he had to go.

He took an extra moment to breathe and steady himself before rounding the corner, the knot in his stomach growing tighter and bigger the closer he got to the line. Castiel was a few spots ahead of him, and he looked back, winking before turning his attention back to the front.

Every three steps brought Dean one spot closer to the entrance of the club, and the music was growing progressively louder, the bass shaking through his body. He willed it to stop, for his body to calm down, but it did no such thing. It was a miracle he was able to give his ID to the man, who asked his name and birthdate with a questionable look.

"Steven Richardson. September seventh, nineteen-ninety two. Happy birthday to me."

The man looked down at the card before sending Dean a hard glare, but passed back the card, stepping aside to let him in. "Enjoy your… birthday, Steven."

"I'm sure I will."

It was dark in the club, lights in the center lighting up the room in stripes of pinks, greens, reds, and yellows, a deep-blue tint in the background faintly illuminating everyone. It wasn't hard to find Castiel, who was grinding his dick up against a smaller man's ass.

"That was fast," Dean muttered to himself, worming his way through the crowd of dancing people. Viktor's words of staying in character rang through Dean's ears, and he realized he wasn't actually supposed to know Castiel. He shrugged, still working his way to the other man.

When he reached him, he didn't stop, he just continued to walk, brushing his fingers low across Castiel's back, winking at him over his shoulder as Castiel turned his head to look at him.

Dean continued to walk, turning his attention away from Castiel, resulting in a shock as the other man came up behind him without warning, hands sliding low around his hips, pressing them back as he moved his own forward. Dean gasped as Castiel began to rock their hips to the beat, dropping his head down to nudge his nose against Dean's neck.

Dean covered Castiel's hands on his hips with his own. "You dove in to this pretty fast."

"The goal is to be really hot."

"I have a better idea than this."

"What's that?" he asked, kissing Dean's neck.

Dean turned around in Castiel's arms, draping his own around Castiel's neck as Castiel's hands tightened on his hips. They kept up with the beat of the song, Castiel grinding his hips forward in a roll, rolling them slightly back as Dean rolled his up. They followed that rhythm, periodically rolling their eyes around to see who was watching them.

"I feel a little uncomfortable doing this," Dean admitted after a few minutes.

"Why? Nothing worse than we do at home."

"Well, your dad's watching now."

"He came in?"

Dean gestured with a slight cock of his head toward the direction Castiel's father and Mychalla were standing. Castiel peered over at them, then smirked, turning his eyes back to Dean. "Want to make him really uncomfortable?"

"No."

"We going to."

Dean made to retort, but Castiel's fingers were impossibly tight around his hips, and he was grinding hard in to him, slowly leaning Dean's body back, taking complete control over the situation. The only thing Dean could do was wrap his arms tighter around Castiel's neck and moan as the other ground his hips in to his own without relent.

"Keep moaning like that," Castiel muttered, licking up Dean's neck, earning another moan that doubled in intensity as their hips ground together again. "It so sexy."

"You're so sexy."

"Good response."

Dean rolled his eyes over to look at Viktor, who was pointedly refusing to look over at the two of them. "Your dad's really protective over you, isn't he?" he asked as Castiel straightened their bodies back out, kissing Dean's jaw.

"That not sexy."

Dean dropped it, knowing better than to argue with the man who was currently sucking bruises in to his jawline. He moaned once and rolled his eyes over to Viktor, who was periodically checking up on them. "Your dad's watching again."

"So is someone else," Castiel responded, looking over in a direction behind Dean. "Let's take break."

Dean didn't have a chance to respond as Castiel was pulling away from him, grabbing his hand and dragging him over to one of the side areas up a few steps with large leather benches lining the walls and tables for drinks and other things. Castiel pushed Dean down on to one of the benches, and straddled his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Both of their breathing was hard, which was something Dean picked up on now that they were sitting, along with how turned on he was and how hard their heartbeats were. He could feel his own pumping in his ears and Castiel's doing just the same under his fingers from the hand he moved up to rest on his neck.

Castiel had a remarkably fast recovery time, Dean remembered once again, as Castiel began gently rolling his hips the moment Dean put his free hand down on his hip, the other hand still solidly on his neck.

"You know," Castiel said, voice breathy. "it pretty intimate with your hand on my neck."

"So?"

"Maybe take it off?"

"No."

"Dean."

"Only if you kiss me."

Castiel rolled his eyes and leaned in, kissing Dean's nose. "There."

"A little lower." Another eye-roll was delivered along with a kiss to his cheek. "Little over."

"You kidding me?" Dean didn't waver from where he was, his thumb rubbing lightly on Castiel's neck. Castiel clenched his jaw, taking a hand from behind Dean's neck, trying to pull his hand down, but Dean was strong, and Castiel couldn't do much more without breaking the rhythm of their hips. He sighed and wrapped his arm back around his neck, leaning in to kiss the corner of Dean's lips, moaning as he pulled away.

Dean bit his lip, though still didn't pull his hand away from his neck. "What was that about?"

"I like moaning."

"Clearly."

"Moan when I kiss your neck."

"Wh- Oh!" Castiel dropped his head, kissing Dean's neck, grinding his hips down harder than before, earning a small moan from himself as well.

Dean tilted his head up to kiss Castiel's jaw when the other pulled away from his neck, but it didn't last long as someone was tapping on Castiel's shoulder and Dean's hand moments later.

Castiel backed his face away from Dean's, putting some space between the two of them as he looked over his shoulder, never stopping the rhythm of their hips. "Yes?"

"The owner of the club would like to see you two personally."

"What for?" Castiel knew what he was doing, but Dean had no clue. He leaned forward to kiss at the back corner of Castiel's jaw, hoping to prevent himself from saying something wrong.

"Private…  _show_ ," the man explained.

"What we have to do?" Castiel asked, gasping quietly at Dean's kisses.

"What you're already doing."

Castiel turned his attention to Dean, looking back at him, their lips now a fraction of an inch apart. He quirked an eyebrow in question, and Dean smirked back. "I'm in."

Castiel turned to look over his shoulder at the man again. "Okay." He looked back to Dean one more time, brushing their lips together. It was barely a hair-width of a press, but it still had Dean freezing, shivering as he tightened his hand on Castiel's neck, only for it to be dropped down as the other slid off his hips, grabbing his hand.

Dean stood on his feet, walking close to Castiel as they followed the man through the club toward the back, stopping outside a large door. The man rapped on the door, and Dean stepped even closer to Castiel, bringing his free hand up to run the back of his fingers down his neck.

"What are you doing," Castiel whispered back at him as he swirled his index finger around the small curl of hair behind his neck, watching the dark lock twist around his finger.

Dean didn't respond, just shuffling closer to kiss on the shell of his ear, attempting to ignore the uneasy sensation pooling in his stomach. Castiel made to retort back in whatever way he could, but the door in front of them opened and the man led them in.

Sitting in front of them, in the dead center of the back of the room, was a fairly thin, dark-skinned man, similar in height to Viktor, though Dean thought him to be a bit shorter. He had glasses perched on his nose, and a track suit on his body. He looked like a body-building nerd.

Beside the man were two chairs, one recently empty as the man sitting in it had gotten up, moving behind Dean as the man who led them in stepped behind Castiel. They stepped back, pressing themselves practically in to the wall, and Dean realized they weren't there to intrude, but to guard the man watching the two of them.

"You're very cute," the man said, raking his dark eyes over the pair of them. It made Dean uncomfortable, and he hoped it made Castiel feel just the same. He wasn't showing it, however, so Dean pulled up a stoic face as Castiel let himself relax in to a submissive one.

"You think I'm cute?" Castiel asked. Dean stepped up behind him, snaking his arms low around his hips, fingers slipping in to the front of his pants, nuzzling his nose in to his hair, inhaling deeply. Castiel shivered, and Dean pressed closer.

"Yeah. So does someone else."

Castiel smirked, rolling his eyes over to peer at Dean, though he saw nothing. "He's possessive," he added as Dean rolled his hips forward, pulling Castiel's back, grinding against his ass. Castiel gasped.

"That's hot."

Dean began to roll his hips forward at a slow pace, the fingers in Castiel's pants curling up slightly, brushing against a few hairs, causing Castiel to lull his head back completely, freeing his neck for Dean to work his lips over and hold on to with his free hand, the other still half in his pants.

"You're so sexy," Dean muttered against Castiel's neck, part in character, part lost in the other, enjoying the opportunity to take whatever control he could over the other man.

"Yes, you are," the man in the chair said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Dean pulled Castiel closer, grinding harder in to him, losing his character to his own inhibitions, wanting Castiel more and more with every kiss he pressed to his neck and every moan or whimper he received in return.

"What do you want us to do?" Castiel asked, finally able to calm himself enough to do so.

"Face each other."

It took a bit of persuasion on Castiel's part to get Dean to loosen his hold on him without breaking his submissive role, but he finally let go enough to turn their bodies to face each other. He immediately slid his hand back in to Castiel's pants, fingers resting over his ass. Castiel slid his own hand in to Dean's pants, doing the same to his ass. "Calm yourself," he whispered, tugging Dean close, pulling his earlobe between his teeth.

"It's hard. You really are sexy."

"I know," Castiel smirked, kissing Dean's jaw.

"Kiss each other," the man said, interrupting their nearly-silent conversation.

"Follow my moves," Castiel whispered quickly before pulling away from Dean's ear, the hand in the back of Dean's pants sliding completely in. Dean's eyes widened a fraction as Castiel began peppering kisses across his cheek and jaw, totally lost in what was happening until Castiel wrapped his fingers around the shaft of his gun, tugging it slightly before moving his fingers to the handle.

 _Oh_.

Dean pulled Castiel closer in by sliding his hand down his pants as well, finding Castiel's gun. "Shoot at guy behind me-" Castiel started in a whisper, breaking his words with a kiss to the spot before Dean's ear. "-on my word."

Dean nodded once, and Castiel back his head up, slowly leaning in with slightly parted lips. Dean moved in just as slow, the air around them growing still with a mix of anticipation and fear, the latter mostly from Dean. Castiel's lips were just a breadth off of his when he whispered "Now.".

The both of them slid each other's guns out of their holsters and out of their pants, hugging each other close in order to get their hands over to the gun to balance it and aim. Castiel shot first, the recoil of his gun shaking his shoulders, knocking Dean's aim off a bit, his shot firing just a moment after Castiel's.

Castiel's shot was spot on, firing off at the man's throat, shooting straight through the soft skin and muscle. Red splattered on the wall behind him, and the man slammed to the ground, a pool of his blood forming around him quickly.

The man in the chair yelped, tucking his feet up in to his oversized chair ripping out his gun from the side of his chair as Dean's gun fired, shooting through the wrist of the man behind Castiel. His gun clattered to the ground with a sick crack as the bullet slammed in to his bone, blood spurting from the wound. Dean shot again, hitting him higher up in the arm, and then once more by his stomach, down by his hip.

The shot man let out a scream, falling to the ground, and Castiel and Dean broke apart, pressing their backs up to the nearest wall, Castiel pointing his gun at the man in the chair, shooting once to knock the gun out of the man's hand, Dean pointing his to the door, which was slammed open a minute later, Mychalla busting in, followed by Viktor. Mychalla turned his back to the man in the chair, watching the door.

"Where the fuck my money?" Viktor asked, strolling up to the man in his chair, stepping gracefully over the streams of blood flowing in from each side of the room, kicking the man's gun away before he could reach down to get it. Dean admired how cool he looked.

"What? I-"

"-Where the fuck my money?" Viktor asked again, cocking his gun.

"Fuck! I don't know!"

"You have it?"

"I… I-"

Viktor rolled his eyes, turning the gun to aim at the moaning man against the wall, shooting him in the head, silencing him for good. Dean felt a roll of terror slide through his body, thinking of how shockingly different these Novaks were to the ones he'd been living with. He let his eyes roam over the two dead bodies, and hoped there wasn't more outside the small room they were in now. "Where  _your_ money?"

"…The bank…"

Viktor roamed his eyes around the room before stepping forward, thrusting his hand forward against the other man's neck. "I want my money, Curtis! Give me my money!"

Sirens were faintly heard far in the distance, and Castiel snapped his eyes to his dad. "Father."

"I hear."

"I don't have it," the man -Curtis- breathed out.

"That's bullshit!" Viktor shouted, shooting his gun at the ceiling. The white panel above them rattled, and all in the room looked up as powered white caulk fell down in a stream, landing on Viktor's forearm, stark against the dark suit jacket he had on.

He blinked down at his arm, staring at the crumbled ceiling and powder now on his arm before blinking once again, rolling his eyes up to glare at Curtis. His eyes had the power of Castiel's, burning so hard in to the man that Dean felt uncomfortable just being in the same room. Viktor finally rolled his eyes away from Curtis and up to the ceiling, aiming his gun up to shoot once more, the shot ringing through the nearly silent room, bullet clattering up in the ceiling.

"What up there?" Viktor asked. Curtis didn't respond. He rolled his eyes, done dealing with the uncooperative man. He rolled his eyes to look back at Mychalla, gesturing for him to find out.

The bodyguard sent a look to Dean, telling him to move and guard the door as he walked over to one of the empty chairs, hopping up on the armrest of it, stretching up high to push the loose panel. Shoving it hard a few times knocked it completely loose, sending it up into the empty room, the contents inside spilling down.

Three bags tumbled to the floor. Viktor stepped back to avoid being hit with the falling sacks. One of the bags had two holes through it, presumably from Viktor, and white streams poured from each hole. All looked on curiously as the man dropped to one knee, dipping his fingers in the white powder, rubbing them together slowly as he brought them closer to see.

He narrowed his eyes, pushing himself to his feet quickly, grabbing the two undamaged bags. He tossed one at Castiel, who nearly dropped his gun in an attempt to catch the bag. Viktor slung the other over his shoulder. "We need to go."

"And where do you think you're going?" Curtis asked, making an attempt to stand.

Viktor shot his thigh. "Anywhere but here." He turned to his group. "We need to go." He began walking, Mychalla following after him. Dean waited for Castiel to go before following him as well. Sending one look back to the two dead men on the ground, their deep blood streaked across the floor, Curtis' wound now adding to the pool.

Dean bumped himself in to Castiel, who was stopped in front of his father in the nearly empty main room of the club, the only bodies left in there being dead ones. Dean swallowed hard. "You and Dean go out back. You go out back, and you run."

"Where you going?" Castiel asked. Dean could see the worry cautiously worming its way on to his face -something Dean never thought he'd witness- and it flooded him with fear.

"We just going. I see you tonight Castiel, I promise." Viktor paused, the sirens growing progressively louder. "You need to go."

"Fathe-"

"-Go!"

Castiel clenched his jaw, his eyes growing hard and stoic once again. He nodded, hitching the bag up higher on his shoulder before beginning to run toward the back exit of the club. Dean followed after him without much more of a question, looking back over his shoulder at Viktor and Mychalla, who were running toward one of the side exits.

Castiel shoved through the heavy door, and Dean followed after him. The bag was smacking hard against Castiel's body, but his legs continued pumping hard, practically sprinting down the sidewalk in the complete opposite way of the club, winding his way through back alleys, never once showing any sign of tiring. Dean followed after him, mentally encouraging himself to continue, despite the burning in his thighs and how much his calves just wanted to give out and let his body collapse to the ground to rest.

Their breathing was hard, and Dean had no clue as to how long they'd been running, but he knew the area, and realized they were just a few blocks away from the shoreline. He could see the glow of the water, and he hoarsely called forward to Castiel. "Water's ahead."

"I know."

Dean could hear the sirens in the background still, and realized that while not all of the cruisers were chasing after them, there still were a few. "How do they-" Dean took the deepest breath he could manage, his lungs protesting. "-know we're going this way?"

"Searching."

They were nearing the final block before the body of water, and Castiel took a quick turn angling himself toward one of the piers. The sirens were getting progressively louder, and Dean realized that as hard as they ran, the police were still faster. Castiel was running hard, the bag flinging absurdly around his body, but he still didn't slow, sprinting himself straight toward the pier.

Their feet his the solid wood, and soon they were over the water, running down the runway. Dean blinked a few times. "There's not a boat at the end-" A breath. "is there?"

"Nope."

"We jumping?"

"Yep."

A squelch of tires were heard about four blocks to the left of them, and both looked over to see bright lights flashing as the vehicle sped toward them. Their eyes widened, and they began to run as fast as their legs could carry them, and for once, Dean was grateful for the forced runs Mychalla had taken him on to build up his stamina.

The cruisers were a little under two blocks away, and Dean was just a few steps behind Castiel, who launched himself over the edge of the fence surrounding the pier, launching over with such grace that Dean lost himself in it for just a few moments, distracted enough to mistime his jump, catching his hips as he dove over the fence. He flipped over the edge, yelping as he went over, his back meeting the water first as he flailed recklessly on his way down.

The water exploded up around him, and he struggled underwater to turn himself around and swim back up, his clothes billowing around him, the front of his shirt nearly blocking his way of sight.

A hand wrapped around his wrist, and he was being tugged to the surface. Castiel was kicking hard, and Dean shook his shoulders, getting his shirt off his face before finally realizing it had been Castiel who pulled him up.

"Come on," he said, dropping Dean's wrist, beginning to swim as fast as he could under the pier as the police cars squelched on their brakes, skidding to a stop on the road leading up to the extension over the water. Dean could see some of them running as close as they could to the fence surrounding the steep drop-off in to the water, pulling out their guns.

"Swim faster," Dean warned, going as absolutely fast as he could while still keeping an eye on the men aiming their guns. A few shots were fired, and he felt his heart drop. "They're gonna catch us," he breathed, swimming faster and closer to Castiel, rounding up on his side. The bullets were whizzing passed them in the water, a few nicking on Dean's shirt and shoes, ripping small holes in the cloth.

"No they won't."

Castiel was sorta right. There really wasn't much of a way for them to be captured after they were completely under the part of the pier going in to the land unless the police surrounded them and a few swam in after them. That wasn't really good enough, however, and the closer they got to land, the closer the police's bullet came to them, whizzing just millimeters passed Dean's body..

"I'm not sure about th- SHIT!" A bullet shoot straight across Dean's biceps, cutting open a large gauge that salt water filled immediately, stinging his skin and the wound. Dean looked down to see blood beginning to cloud around his arm, but shook his head and shook it off, biting his lip, drawing blood as he continued to swim, every movement sending a revolting shock of pain through him.

Castiel hadn't seemed to have payed too much attention to him, just continuing to swim as fast as he could, though he stopped to wait for Dean once he got about five feet from the solid cement wall. "Take deep breath. Swim straight down, and go through hole. Don't worry, you fit. Just… take deep breath, okay?" Dean nodded, clutching at his arm. Castiel look at it briefly before nodding himself. "Okay."

It took him another moment, but Castiel was sucking in a deep breath of air before diving straight down, kicking hard to propel himself under. Dean watched him go down, taking one last look at his arm before sucking in a breath, following Castiel down just the same.

The other swam near to the bottom, squirming himself through a hole barely big enough for his body. Dean looked on cautiously, the best he could through the cracks he allowed his eyes to peer through, but decided his only option was to go through. He kicked hard, getting down to the edge, where he reached out and pulled himself through. The sharp edges of the rocks scratched and pulled at his skin, and he felt his wound tear open wider as it hook on a jagged piece of the moss-covered stone.

He yelped, letting all of the air out in his lungs, but he couldn't stop. He kicked harder, fitting through the hole, straining desperately to get to the surface on the other side.

When his face broke the surface, he sucked in desperate gulps of air, flailing to keep himself afloat as he regained feeling in his limbs, his lungs calming from the strain they'd been under, his eyes adjusting to the near pitch darkness. There were a few cracks in the cement wall, letting light flood in from outside, illuminating the water beneath them, casting faded designs on the the roof of what Dean could only call a cave.

"Where are we?" Dean asked quietly, though his voice echoed around, making him sound as though he hadn't muted his voice at all.

"Found this when I was kid. It uh… hiding spot."

Dean whipped himself around in the pool of sea water and his own blood, looking for Castiel. "Where are you?"

Castiel stretched off from where he had himself perched, his breathing still a bit hard as he tried to calm himself down, holding his hand out to Dean, who gladly took it. Castiel guided him to the rock, and Dean clambered up on in clumsily, falling flat down on his face as soon as he could.

He was given a minute to relax before Castiel was poking at him. "Roll over, Dean. I need look at your arm."

"You can't even see in here."

"I figure it out."

His voice was serious, and despite his desire to stay exactly where he was, and how much his muscles screamed in protest, he rolled over. Castiel was immediately observing his arm, getting as close as he could to it.

"Shit."

Dean looked at him. "What?"

"That fucked up."

"Yeah, thanks."

Castiel shook his head, sitting up, reaching forward to tug up on Dean's shirt, getting him to take it off. He put it under his back to pad himself from the rocks. Dean watched him as he took off his own, ripped it in half without a second thought, and rung out as much of the water soaked in to it as he could before wrapping it around Dean's arm. It wasn't tight enough for him to loose his arm should it be on too long. The salt water once again stung the wound, but the makeshift bandage was as good as they were going to get.

"That the best I can do. It not seem to hurt too bad…" he offered, his voice raising in a tone of consolation.

"I think I'm in shock."

The two of them were silent for a minute as Dean adjusted to the new pain, and Castiel adjusted to the cold rolling over his body.

Dean reached out to put a hand on his knee. "Thank you." Castiel nodded once, his body shivering, and Dean narrowed his eyes. "You're cold."

"So?"

"Come here."

"I am here."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You're so fucking difficult." He patted his chest a few times. "Come  _here_."

"Why?"

"So I can keep you warm." He reached across his body to grab Castiel's hand, tugging hard enough to get him to move. The other was stubborn, though eventually moved, draping himself strangely over Dean.

Dean sighed and adjusted their bodies, pressing their chests together, wrapping his arms around Castiel, spreading his hands out wide across his narrow back. He could feel his muscles contracting, shivers rolling through his body, and despite the other's reluctance to do the same, Dean held him close.

After a few minutes of hard shivering, Castiel finally responded, worming his arms around Dean the best he could without pinning them between their bodies and the rocks below.

"Doesn't this hurt you?"

"A little. Not much."

Castiel relaxed his head against Dean's chest, finally giving in to what was happening. "Then why you doing it?"

"To keep you warm," Dean explained, shivering once himself.

"That pretty stupid thing to deal with pain for."

Dean shrugged. "It's worth it."

They lay in silence for nearly two hours, the only sound was their breathing, or the occasional shift on the rocks. Neither of them were really wet anymore, but Castiel made no effort to move, and Dean never dropped his arms from around him.

"I have joke," Castiel muttered against Dean's chest, lips brushing across his skin.

"Do you?"

Castiel nodded. "Okay. Why does chicken coop have only two doors?"

Dean thought for a minute, then shook his head. "I don't know."

"If had four, it be a chicken sedan." He laughed quietly. "I have another."

"Okay."

"What do you call a fly with no wings?"

"I… I don't know."

"A walk," Castiel said quietly, laughing a bit once again.

Dean smiled, laughing a bit, his body shaking Castiel with him. "Oh god."

Castiel smiled against his skin. "I have another."

"You have more?" Castiel nodded. "Then do it."

"Ask me if I'm a tree."

"What?"

"Ask me if I'm a tree."

"I-" Dean shook his head. "…Are you a tree?"

"No."

It was dead silent in the cave. The serious tone of Castiel's voice and the lack of movement from him had Dean shaking with disbelief at the absurdity of the joke. Castiel grinned against Dean's skin, chuckling deeply, his eye squinting shut as Dean's laugh grew louder, echoing around the cave.

"It not even that funny," Castiel said between his huffs, but Dean didn't care, laughing loud and carefree, Castiel shaking on top of him with every contraction of his lungs and abdomen, his hands sliding inch by inch across his back, the warmth in his body resonating through Castiel, heating every inch of his body.

Their laughter died off after a while, and pleasant silence took over once more. "How your arm feel?" Castiel asked after a few minutes.

"Really fucking weird."

"How?"

"I mean, there's a hole in my arm… so, that's pretty new."

Castiel huffed. "Why haven't you said anything?"

"It wasn't really on my mind. I had something else to focus on."

"What that?"

Dean rolled his eyes, a hint of a grin on his lips. "Not telling you."

"Why not?"

"Not happening."

"Tell me."

"What I was thinking about?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Tell me," Castiel said, pushing himself completely on top of Dean, moving to straddle his hips. Dean's hands followed his back.

"Nope."

"Tell me, Winchester." He leaned in, running one of his hands up and through Dean's hair.

"It'll make things weird."

Castiel laid back down on him, resting his chin on his chest. "Tell me."

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?" Castiel shook his head no. Dean rolled his eyes up to the top of the cave. "Fine. I was just…" He tapped his thumbs along his spine. "thinking about how nice it was to be holding you."

Castiel was still looking up at Dean and they locked eyes for a brief moment before Castiel was turning to rest his cheek on Dean's chest again, worming a bit higher up on his body.

It was another few hours before anyone came for them. It was a shock to have the water break so suddenly in the silence of the cave, but the two of them flew apart the moment the first splash came, Castiel moving to the deserted duffle bag on the other side away from them, Dean groaning in pain at moving his arm so suddenly and broadly.

"It me!" Mychalla said, taking a few deep breaths as he continued to tread in the water, holding his flashlight up to look around. "Your father said you'd probably be here."

"He okay?" Castiel asked.

"Just fine. We need to go."

"Why?" Castiel asked, simply out of curiosity. He was more than ready to leave.

"Can't have idle car sit for too long."

Castiel nodded, immediately crawling toward the water. He grabbed the remnants of his shirt and tossed Mychalla the bag, who was waiting with open arms to catch it. Dean followed suit, grabbing his shirt as well, hissing with every movement.

Mychalla noticed. "What wrong with him?"

"He injured."

Castiel slid into the freezing water of the night, and Dean did so as well, hissing hard at the sting of the water hitting his wound, despite that it was covered.

"Then we better get back soon. Come on."

Mychalla had the bag around him, so he dove down first. "You okay?" Castiel asked, waiting for a quick nod from Dean before following the other down. Dean took a moment to still himself, trying to push away the stinging pain before taking a deep breath, driving down as well.

It was like a chain, swimming through the hole again, and Dean was sure not to brush his bad arm against the jagged rocks as he passed through, surfacing up right beside Castiel. They followed Mychalla back to the shore and over to the waiting car. Another man was in the drivers seat, so Castiel and Dean sat in the back, their soaking clothes drenching the car around them.

Mychalla shifted in his seat, looking at Dean. "Let me see injury." Dean held out his arm, earning an eye roll from both men looking at him.

"You need take this off," Castiel said, reaching out to untie the cloth he had around the wound. It was nearly completely soaked with blood, and Mychalla's eyes widened at the sight.

"Holy shit. We need get you to hospital." The man driving changed his route without question, driving to the nearest hospital. "That bullet wound?"

Dean nodded. "From the police. It happened in the water."

Mychalla pulled a face. "Hope that not get infected. That nasty. I can see muscle."

"That's really comforting."

"Why aren't you screaming in pain?"

"In shock," both Castiel and Dean said at the same time, turning to look at each other.

"I think when it starts to hurt, my body just falls right back in," Dean explained, not looking away from Castiel, who was watching his with large eyes.

"That not good," Mychalla said, looking up as they arrived at the hospital. "We need get you in now."

Castiel hopped out of the car, taking Dean's hand to guide him in, though made no effort to drop it the moment they were inside.

What a sight they must have been, Dean assumed. A group of four men, three of which were soaking wet, two holding hands, and one with a ripped open bullet wound, all calmly waiting for someone to assist them.

It happened quickly in Dean's eyes. He was standing upright, Castiel right beside him when his vision began to grow blurry, speckled back filling in the corners as his legs began to wobble. The voices around him were garbled, and the only thing he could feel was Castiel's hand tightening around his own before his legs collapsed, and he fell on the floor with black in his sights.

When he awoke, he was in a hospital bed, an IV in his arm, stitches in his wound, and blankets over his body. He groaned. "What happened?" he asked, not expecting a reply.

"You passed out, they fixed you up, now you stuck here for another two hours before can go home," Mychalla responded.

Dean blinked blearily over at him. "You're here?" he asked, not disappointed, just confused.

The man nodded. "Had to take Castiel home. He asleep." Mychalla laughed quietly. "He not want to leave you, and then not want to rest once home. Alona gave him sleep pills."

Dean laughed a bit. " _Really_  didn't want to leave then, huh." Mychalla shook his head, and Dean cleared his throat. "Can I have some water?"

"Sure." He walked over to the sink in what Dean was just noticing was a private room, filling a paper cup to bring to the other.

Dean took it gratefully, downing the liquid. "Thank you," he said, relaxing back on to the bed when he was done with the drink. "Do I really have to be here two hours?"

Mychalla nodded, and Dean groaned. "What, you want go home?" Dean nodded. "I see what I can do.

He could do a lot, as 40 minutes later found he and Mychalla walking out of the hospital on the promise that Dean wouldn't do much of anything once he was home, which he planned to stick to.

He trudged up the huge stairwells up to his room, peeking in to Castiel's room on the way. It was nearing one in the morning, and Castiel was out hard. Dean quirked up the corner of his lips, eyes roving over the sleeping mass of man with wild hair and squeezed-shut eyes, before roaming in to his room, stripping his clothes off completely before collapsing on his bed, just barely able to curl in to his blankets before falling asleep, the day's events wearing on him harder than before.

And also the drugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the club scene was sorta based off of Date Night when they go to the club and they're grinding on the pole and shit trying to get over to the broom guy... yeah. Sorry if it seems a bit unrealistic. I'm 17. I don't go clubbing.
> 
> Anyway, sorry this took so long. I was so super busy, and then I wasted my time on tumblr, and wow. Sorry.
> 
> Let me know what you think of this so far! Also the new chapter's on the way, as in I've already started writing it, so... not so long a wait this time...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty fluffy chapter, I guess

 

Dean was alone when he woke, though it felt as though a body was pressed against his own the way his pillows were squished in to him, his blankets wrapped entirely around his body. He felt sticky. Sticky and sleep bogged, but there really wasn't much he could do about the later.

Untangling himself from his blankets, he found his feet barely able to keep him up as he turned and stood, his head swimming, his body rocking, though he didn't fall. "Fuck," he muttered, voice sleep-scratchy and dry, his mouth feeling empty and barren as he padded in to his bathroom, pulling the tab on the faucet in his bathtub beside the shower, letting the water run over his fingers until it was warm enough before turning to get a cup of water from his sink.

He recalled, briefly, the instructions he'd been given the night before: Sleep, shower without the bandages on, and put the stinging ointment on the stitches before wrapping his arm back up in a clean wrap.

With a sigh, he looked down at the steaming water, to his stitches, back to the water, and around again to the stitches, looping between the two as he tentatively stepped in to the tub, letting his legs and feet adjust as the water rose up around him.

It was about mid-calf when he sat down, hissing at the hot water as he shut off the stream, leaning back against curved wall of the tub, submerging his arm. He yelped and brought his fist up to his mouth, trying to keep calm as the water felt as though it was boiling his skin, burning through it from the inside out.

"Holy shit," he breathed out, writing in the tub, refusing to give up on getting his arm to adjust, dunking it further under. "Shit. Shit. Shit fuck shit shit shit."

"Not heard that out of mouth since that one time I not let you come."

"Jesus christ!" Dean muttered, curling in on himself as he rolled on his side, the water covering his cheek. "Why? Why are you in here?"

Castiel was leaning against the doorframe to his bathroom, playing with a washrag he'd grabbed from the counter beside him. "Not think you be so disappointed to see me."

"I'm not. It's just-" Dean rolled back to face up again, still squinting his eyes as the hard and consistently stinging pain. "Why?"

"Mychalla heard water running, realized he forgot to give this-" he held up some ointment or antibacterial of some sort along with fresh gauze. "I offered to bring to you."

"Thanks," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes to peer at Castiel as he set the objects down on the sink, turning to lean back against it as he watched Dean.

"You okay?"

"Not really."

"It hurt?" Dean nodded, biting his lip. The corner of Castiel's lip quirked up as he took a step forward, dropping gently down to his knees. "Maybe," he started, voice soft. "all you need is distraction. He reached forward, cupping his hand around Dean's cheek, his impossibly long fingers covering his his whole face, tracing up in to his damp hair.

The solid warmth of hand was comforting nearly immediately, and Dean turned his face to lean in to his hand. He closed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Distracting you," Castiel said, leaning in to kiss Dean's cheekbone. He sat back again. "Look at me."

Dean peeked open his eyes, only to be met with the most incredible sight. Castiel's eyes were soft, and warm, and more gentle and sweet than Dean had ever seen them be, lit up the way such gorgeously shaded eyes should be. A light smile was on his lips, and he looked as though he were glowing.

"Wow…" Dean whispered, unable to look away.

Castiel's face fell a fraction. "What?"

Dean shook his head, leaning imperceptibly more into Castiel's hand. "It's… It's nothing."

"Tell me."

Dean shook his head. Castiel leaned in closer. Dean closed his eyes. It was almost too much to take in. "It'll make things weird."

"Tell me."

"...You look like an angel."

"Then why you not looking?"

"You never look at angels. Their beauty and power will fill you and blind you with bliss and awe, and for that one sweet moment, it's all worth it, but then the world goes dark, and there's nothing more. It's… too much."

"That very nice."

"It's from my favorite book."

Castiel was quiet for a moment. "It sound good coming from you." He fell silent again. "Look at me."

Dean hesitated, but cracked open his eyes. Castiel was closer than he'd been before, eyes boring in to Dean's with the light and gentle glow that'd been there before. Dean lost himself in them without any restraint, not willing himself to blink from fear of missing just a moment of this new and most likely fleeting Castiel.

"You're an angel," he whispered, bringing one of his hands out of the water to cover Castiel's on his cheek.

"Not quite." Castiel waited a moment, letting Dean enjoy his last moments before pulling his hand away, letting his face fall back to normal as he sat back up. "Your arm feel better?"

Dean nodded, not really noticing the stinging pain anymore. "Much."

"Good." He pushed himself to his feet. "I see you later, okay?"

"I'm holding you to that."

"I know."

With that he was gone, and Dean couldn't deny the sense of longing that filled his body and the simple desire to have Castiel back in there with him, holding him in the warm water. But not even that completely, just willing him to be back in the room, with his face still alight with all the beauty he just wanted more of.

He sighed and dunked his head underwater.

Deeming himself clean enough after a good long soak, Dean pressed the tab down on the faucet, opening the drain, sitting as the water slowly slipped away from around him, only standing up to dry off when the tub was down to nothing more than a lukewarm puddle.

The fluffy towels the Novaks owned were always a welcome object, Dean more than willing to wrap the soft linen around his body, soaking himself dry in a mater of seconds, or so it seemed. He managed to pull on a fresh pair of boxers before he was stumbling over to his bed, collapsing down on it with a fresh pack of gauze and the ointment that smelled faintly of mint.

He gave himself a moment of rest before unscrewing the cap, dabbing the ointment over the stitches. It hurt far less than what he was anticipating.

The bandages were another story.

"God fucking damnit! Wrap! Fuck." Dean was attempting to wrap his arm, but with every movement, the bandage slipped down or off or completely unravelled around his arm. He threw it to the ground. "Fuck this."

"Having trouble?"

Dean snapped his eyes to the doorway, where Castiel was leaning on the frame. "You always have a way of showing up when I need you."

"I make it goal of mine." Castiel knocked himself off of the frame, strolling over to Dean. He grabbed the bandage off of the floor, stopping in front of Dean, reaching forward. His fingers wrapped around his arm, down by his elbow, pulling it up and away from his body to allow him space to wrap the gauze.

Dean stretched his fingers to brush against Castiel's side, and Castiel rolled his eyes up to look at him, fingers deftly wrapping his bandage. "What you doing?"

"Trying to get you to come closer."

Castiel didn't budge until he was done with Dean's arm, only stepping a fraction closer to let the other's fingers touch him, guiding him in.

Dean tugged him in the best he could, fingers worming over his hip, moving him forward inch by inch until he had no other choice but to sit on his lap, moving forward with his knees on either side of Dean's hips. He reached up, cupping Dean's jaw, turning his head just enough to brush his lips against his cheekbone.

"Why're you being so sweet to me?" Dean asked as Castiel continued to pepper gentle kisses across his cheeks and nose.

"Don't use that word."

"Why are you?"

Castiel pulled back to look in Dean's eyes. "… I know you swim in front of me to protect from bullets."

Dean was quiet. "How'd you figure that out?"

"You struggling hard to keep beside me. And your eyes."

Dean shrugged. "My eyes?" He shook his head. "It's my job."

"You not have to do what you did." He kissed his forehead, cupping the sides of his jaw with both hands. "Thank you."

"I don't need thanks."

Castiel tilted Dean's jaw up. "You sure?"

"I'm not sure what you…" But Castiel's lips were against his and his body stilled and filled with the light he'd seen just an hour before as his plump lips locked on his own and Dean couldn't even react, his body going numb and tingly, the only thing on his mind; Castiel's lips.

The kiss was broken and Dean whined without trying, the sound escaping from his throat on its own. "…Angel…" His hands clamped down on to Castiel's hips and his eyes peeled open, only to see Castiel pushing himself away. He refused to let go of his hips. "Don't leave."

"I have to."

"You're an angel."

Castiel broke his hips free. "Not quite."

Dean wanted to follow him as he walked away, every bone and muscle in his body straining in an attempt to get him to move, but something was holding him back, and he could do nothing more than twitch as he watched him walk across the hall into his room, closing the door behind him.

His muscles seemed to snap on him after a few minutes of blank staring, wanting the light and glory from his kiss and touch to be back in him and he couldn't wait anymore. He stood and marched over to Castiel's room, catching the other reading a book on his bed.

He grabbed the set of frayed pages and threw them across the room, the book fluttering to the ground as it hit a wall, but Dean didn't care, crawling half over Castiel, cupping his face and kissing him with all he had.

The light swelled back in him again, and he had to force himself to not give in to it, to lose his sense to it. He focused on holding Castiel's face, and touching Castiel's lips, and the brush of whatever body parts touched as they moved together, Castiel covering Dean's hands with his own.

"Dean," he managed to breathe, breaking the kiss.

"No," Dean said back, kissing him again. He wasn't done. He'd never be done.

"Dean." Castiel broke the kiss again, but Dean was having none of it.

"No, Cas. I'm not going to stop. I'm not going to stop, like you're gonna ask me to do, because I want this. I  _need_ this, and I know you. You're gonna tell me we have to stop this, that it can't go on. Well I don't want to stop it, Cas." He kissed him again. "I don't want to stop it."

"Then don't."

"What?"

Castiel was looking up at Dean, expecting him to formulate an answer to his own question, as though it were as obvious as the darkness of night or the stars in the sky. Dean gaped. "Are you… You saying that… you want… more? With us?"

Castiel blinked. "Depend on what mean by 'more'."

"I mean," Dean started, rolling of of Castiel and on to his side, squishing in to the bed beneath him, hands never leaving Castiel's face, who turned his body to look at him. "I mean, we can do this. I can… you know, kiss you, whenever, wherever. And hold your hands. And… sleep, with you."

"That sound like relationship."

"It kind of is."

"You know how feel about that."

"But Cas." He kissed him, and his body felt alight once again. "Don't think of it as a relationship. Think of it as… Friends with  _extra_ benefits. Doesn't all of that sound… nice?" He bumped their noses together. "Hmm?"

"This not me."

"But it could be." He kissed him once more, and felt the other relax in his hands and under his lips. "You might really enjoy being with me. Can't we try?"

Castiel shook his head, but it wasn't a no. "I need think about it."

"When will you tell me?"

"Tonight."

Dean kissed Castiel one last time, making it count, focusing just on his lips and soft they were underneath his own and how they shifted in time with Dean's and how perfect kisses from Castiel were.

"I'll see you tonight, then."

Castiel nodded, but didn't move his hands from Dean's, leaning in to his touch for just a moment before he closed his eyes and turned his face away the best he could. Dean took that as a sign for him to go.

Pushing himself up and over Castiel the best he could to turn himself to the open end of the bed without actually letting go of Castiel proved more difficult than intended, but he did it, kissing Castiel's cheek one last time, sliding his hand out from under Castiel's as he stepped away and slid off the bed, moving to the doorway, never taking his eyes off of Castiel, who was watching him just as steadily as he was watching him.

It took a moment, but he was able to break their locked gazes, turning himself around to leave the room, stumbling back in to his own numbly to get some clothes on his body before making his way downstairs and in to the dojo, as he'd grown to call it.

Mychalla came in after hearing a good bit of grunting and whining and thuds on the ground from Dean losing his balance.

"What you doing? You need rest."

"I don't want it." He turned to him. "Take me on a run."

"No."

"Then I'll go on my own."

"No."

He agreed eventually, taking Dean on a short and slow jog around the paths inside the protective fence, only running about a quarter, if even, of their normal distance. Dean wouldn't admit it, but he was grateful for that, more than willing to shower quickly once again, making his way downstairs to explore the house on his own for the first time since he moved in.

He came across a large room that looked to be a theater of some sort, with a huge couch that seemed to be made out of chairs, though decided that wasn't quite so when he tried to pull one away. He blinked at it, plopping down in the dark leather that melded in to the rest of the dark flooring and decorations in the house.

"Ohh, that's nice," he moaned out as he reclined in the pseudo-chair, lolling his head lazily around the room, realizing that it was the first time he was really able to relax since he'd woken up, though kissing Castiel had nearly the same effect when it was happening, despite the electricity flowing through him from it.

He thought back to those kisses as he reached out for what looked like a remote, lazily pressing the red button on the top. Panels in the wall slid apart, and possibly the largest television Dean had ever seen was pushed out of the now-exposed space. "Cool," he muttered, flipping through the DVD menu. He chose the only one that wasn't from before 2007, some cartoon Disney movie he'd only seen because of Sam.

With a stretch, he relaxed completely on the chair, curling himself in to it as the familiar overtones of the movie echoed quietly in the dim room. He didn't focus on them, though, just the tingle beneath his lips as he remembered just how it felt to kiss the man presumably upstairs, a sense of longing resonating through his body like ripples in a puddle.

He was unaware he'd fallen asleep until he woke up later surrounded by people, the end of the movie coming up. Castiel was in the seat he was facing, Alona in the other on his side, Viktor and what Dean assumed to be some of Alona's friend spread out around them. Dean blinked a few times. "Wha-"

"Shhh," Alona hushed, smacking Dean's thigh. He jumped a bit closer to Castiel, who was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

He didn't make another sound until the movie was over, and Alona was smiling with glee. "Oh, that my favorite movie."

"We know," one of the girls behind Dean said.

"You make us watch like, once a month," Castiel supplied, standing up and stretching, raising his hands high above his head, arching back with quiet squeaks coming from with mouth every inch he pulled himself.

He dropped his arms suddenly, letting his fingers drop down to brush through Dean's hair, looking back at him through the corner of his eyes. Dean watched him without relent, only breaking eye contact to drag his eyes down his body. He smiled to himself, remembering all he'd done to the body, and Castiel let a hint of a smile on to his lips at the same thing.

"Time for dinner," Viktor said as he made to leave, pushing himself out of the deep leather chair with a groan. "Don't be too long," he said to Dean, though gave a look to Castiel, telling him the same thing.

The girls filed out of the room, there were about seven of them, and Viktor followed along, leaving Castiel and Dean alone.

Castiel held out his hand. "Come on. We need go to dinner." Dean grabbed his hand, but linked their fingers together, not bothering to get up. Castiel frowned. "Come on, Dean."

"I want you."

"I know." He tugged on his hand. "Come on."

"Kiss me?"

"No."

"Kiss me."

Castiel didn't move, just tugged on Dean's hand again. "Come on."

Dean plopped himself out of the chair and on the the floor, crouching up on to his knees before getting to his feet. He stepped to Castiel, holding their hands between their bodies, cupping his cheek. "Only if you kiss me."

"I kiss you once and you think it free will to my lips." Dean pouted, and Castiel rolled his eyes, leaning in to peck Dean's lips. "I admit. Kissing you feel pretty okay."

Dean smiled. "Just imagine how it makes me feel."

Castiel shook his head and stepped back, turning away and walking, not dropping Dean's hand until they were out of the room.

"Why were all of you guys in there?" Dean asked as they walked, trying to pretend like nothing had just happened, similar to how Castiel was acting, but the tingle on his lips and through his fingers told a different story.

"Alona heard movie and drag us there. You out cold, so we restart, watch, and then you wake up."

"Family movie night with a sleeping bodyguard?"

"Pretty much," Castiel laughed, and Dean couldn't help but to smile. He loved his laugh.

They walked into the dining room, and Alona was talking animatedly with one of the other girls, the one who had spoken up back in the theater room. "I can not understand you! Why you say that to him?"

"He stupid, Alona! He hit on me yet say he love you! You see what wrong there?"

"You lie, Anna."

"She tell truth," another girl butted in. Her hair was long and dark, braided off to one side.

"Shut up, Rachel."

Dean looked at Castiel as they sat down. "Are those two of your other sisters?"

Castiel nodded. "They got home in morning. It was… interesting. Rachel very surprised such a cute boy in house."

"She thinks I'm cute?"

"Super fucking hot, if you want know."

Dean choked. "Are you serious?"

"Would I lie?"

"Look," the girl Anna said, breaking their conversation. "There's Rachel's crush."

"I not have crush!"

"You say he super fucking hot," Alona butted in.

"Language!" Viktor called from the end of the table.

"Fuck off, you let Castiel cuss," Anna said, and Viktor rolled his eyes with a sigh.

Castiel shrugged. "You do let me cuss."

"I know."

Dean smiled, and let his eyes drift over to the girls. He recognized a few of them as Alona's friends he'd met when he first moved in, but two of them were new. Rachel was looking at him, ignoring the others girls to send him a flirty smile.

He sent half of one back.

Dinner was brought out just a minute later, and the whole group of them was eating just as soon. they had the beef and soup they'd had the first night Dean was there, and it honestly felt like a fresh new beginning to him, everything repeating itself over from their meal to the newness of everyone at the table.

Not that he was complaining. The meat was delicious.

They'd slowed down their pace of eating, down to just random pieces of meat and bread, and Dean hadn't really noticed how close Castiel had gotten until their arms were brushing with every movement.

Everyone was deep in some form of conversation or another, and Castiel took the opportunity to lay his hand on Dean's thigh, rubbing slowly and gently from the heat on the inside to the out, his thumb very to near to the v in his thighs.

Dean wouldn't admit how much it was effecting him just to have him touching him, and how weird it was for these sensations to be growing over a day, recalling that he'd never really felt this way before because of his touch.

He covered Castiel's hand on his thigh, and the corner of the other's lips quirked up for a quick second, falling just a moment later as he pulled his hand away. Dean tried not to frown.

Castiel blinked. "Lose the face," he whispered to him, reaching forward to grab his drink, downing what was in it. He stood up, his chair scratching across the floor behind him. "I want watch another movie."

Viktor sighed. "You had long day yesterday. You sure?" Castiel nodded, looking over to the girls for confirmation.

Rachel smiled at Dean again, waggling her fingers. "I'm in for movie."

Castiel looked questioningly to Dean. He shrugged. "Sure."

"Okay. You can watch movie bu-"

"Thank you, daddy!" Rachel said, pushing herself up from the table. "I want watch horror."

"Okay," Castiel said, brushing his fingers against Dean's shoulder. "Let's go."

Dean stood up, following Castiel out closely, hoping for just a moment alone to steal another kiss from him. But hoping was too much. The girls followed after just a moment later, and Rachel was right by his side within a few steps. Castiel gave him a look, but Dean couldn't do much of anything.

"What your name?" Rachel asked, walking far closer than was necessary.

"Uhhh, Dean. And you're Rachel?"

A nod "I Rachel. So, Dean. Can I sit with you?"

She sure was persistent. Dean looked at Castiel quickly. "Uhhh, sure."

"Cool," she said. Dean wasn't really sure how old she was, but it was definitely much older than himself. She was pretty, however, though it didn't matter to Dean. He took another quick moment to look at Castiel, who's fingers were so close to his own, loose and relaxed and ready to be taken and Dean had to restrain himself from reaching out, claiming them as his own.

They sat in the back row of chairs, Castiel on the far end, Dean beside him, and Rachel after Dean. She sat beside him, leaning in to him. Dean leaned a bit in to Castiel. He could smell the faint scent of his cologne, and he wondered why he'd never noticed it before.

It was calming.

Castiel stuck true to his word, and put on a horror movie, snuggling down into his chair as Alona padded in with blankets in her hands. She dropped a few on Castiel before taking the rest up to the front with her friends. They giggled as they spread them out over their bodies, Castiel doing the same to their own.

They were only given three, so Dean got the smallest one, and used the overlap of the other two blankets to cover himself. He was grumpy about it, upset at how he didn't get a full sized blanket to himself, though he wasn't sure why. He really didn't even want a blanket in the first place. But Castiel's fingers were worming under Dean's blanket and his own, moving to brush his fingers against Dean's wrist, then his hand.

Dean looked over at him, but Castiel was watching the screen, his fingers still crawling over his own, testing the waters, his tips brushing in between the gaps of Dean's spread out hands.

He never looked away from Castiel, waiting until the other sent him a brief look of contemplation as he squirmed his fingers between Dean, threading them loosely. Dean waited a moment, letting their hands relax before arching his palm back, sliding their fingers tighter together.

They both let loose a faint smile, wiping it from their faces as quick as it showed up.

The movie passed rather unceremoniously, the only real thing happening besides the girls up front yelping at frightening intervals was Rachel inching her way towards Dean, her hand on his thigh by the end of the movie, Dean's arm around her to satiate her.

She winked at him as one of Alona's friends hopped up to turn on the lights in the room, and stood herself, turning to leave with Anna with a small wave.

Dean and Castiel stayed behind to pick up the blankets.

"You sure look cozy with Rachel," Castiel said, folding a blanket over his arm.

"Well, she sure was with me."

"If you want be with her, that okay," he said, sweeping up another blanket.

"Have you forgotten I'm gay?" Dean asked, picking up the last blanket. He stepped to Castiel, their cloth-laden arms pushed together. "And I don't want to be with her. I want you, even if you don't want me."

Dean left it open, his eyes hopeful, urging Castiel to respond with what he wanted to hear. He didn't, not really. "I said you tonight. Meet me in room in… soon, okay?"

A blink. "Okay."

"Okay." Castiel stepped in, kissing his cheek. "Okay. Now give me you blankets."

"Huh?"

"In your arm. Give blankets."

Dean passed them over. "I like how you talk when you're tired."

"How I talk?"

"With a stronger accent. And you leave out more words."

"Okay."

"That sounded offended," Dean said, stepping up behind Castiel who was walking out of the room, turning down a narrow hallway that led to the laundry room. He wrapped his arms around him the best he could, fingers nestling in to the blankets in front of him, effectively pulling him to a stop. "I didn't mean it."

"See, this why not want kiss you. Act so different now."

Dean wormed around in the narrow path to face him. "I'm sorry, I am. But those were the most perfect kisses I've ever had in my life, and that's saying something. I've kissed a  _lot_ of people."

"That supposed to me impress?"

"I… what?"

Castiel stared at him blankly, giving Dean a minute to decipher his words. It hit him. "Oh. Oh! No. No, no. I just… I meant it as.. I-"

Dean was flustered. "-I get it. Go to room. I soon to be seeing you."

"You really can't speak English well when you're tired."

"Go fuck yourself, jackass."

Dean couldn't help but to laugh, dropping his arms from Castiel. "Hah, oh god. Okay." He was still laughing at the absurdity of how swiftly Castiel had shot that out to him as he wedged beside him to the exit of the hall. "You- okay. Okay."

Castiel was smiling faintly, and Dean knew he hadn't been vindictive in his words. He didn't say anything as Dean walked away, just waving with the two of his fingers that were poking out from under the mass of blankets.

Dean sent him one last smile before rounding the corner of the hall, swinging around to the staircase. He hopped up it, strolling his way through the second floor to the staircase leading up to his room. He was stopped close to it.

"Hey! Mister cutie blond-blond… blond boy."

Dean paused, looking down to where the voice had come from. Alona and her friends were out of what Dean assumed to be her room, holding a golden ball in her hand. He raised an eyebrow, wandering over to them. "Me?"

Alona's eyes grew wide. "Youuuuu!" She was drunk.

"Me," Dean cheered back, slightly sarcastically, wondering when, exactly, she'd had so much to drink. "Can I help you with something?"

"Locked… locked out," one of her friends giggled, and Alona held up the broken off door-knob.

Dean's eyes grew. "How did yo-?"

"I broke c-cause…" Alona paused to hiccup. "Cause I broke it."

Helpful. "Alright, so what do you want me to do?"

"Get us in?"

Dean looked over at the door, which looked as though it should easily be opened. He pushed on it. It didn't budge.

He looked over at the girls, Alona specifically. "You mind if I kick it in?"

She shook her head no, the group of them taking a collective step back to watch in awe.

Dean shook his shoulders, then took a quick step forward, kicking hard near the lock. The door swung open easily on its hinges, and the girls cheered, all filing in to her room, which was bigger than Castiel's. Alona stopped to hug him. "Thank you blond boy man boy. Uhhh… Dean!"

Dean nodded, patting her back. "Sure thing."

She smiled and ran off in to her room, closing the door behind her. Dean hoped they wouldn't be trapped in there.

With a final look at the door, Dean turned to leave, only to be stopped by a door opening right behind him. He stopped turning to look back.

Rachel smiled at him. "Heard you in hall."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Your sister got locked out."

"I saw. She broke it for fun. Want to see if she can."

Dean smiled, taking a step back to lean against the wall across and slightly off center of Rachel's door. "Well, she succeeded."

Rachel's eyes were light, though not as gorgeous as Castiel's. Her jaw was strong, and her skin was pale and soft. She was gorgeous, just like the rest of the Novaks, and Dean wondered just how rigged the genetic lottery had been when they were born.

She stepped to him. "She sure did. Thank you for sit with me in movie."

"No problem," Dean responded.

"It very sweet of you," she said, running her fingers down Dean's arm, brushing soft across his wrist and the palm of his hand.

"No problem," Dean repeated.

She stepped closer, grabbing his hand. She sure was persistent. "Thank you, Dean," she muttered, raising up on her toes to kiss his cheek, very near to his lips. Dean didn't really respond, aside from turning his head just a fraction.

He wasn't expecting her to lean in, locking their lips together without any warning, raising her hand up to cup his face and neck. Dean let out a muffled sound of surprise, but she ignored it, holding him closer.

There were footsteps in the main hall, and Dean rolled his eyes over to see Castiel, who paused less than a second in his steps, taking the sight in before continuing on to his room, not letting any emotion show on his face.

Dean felt sick. He pushed Rachel away gently. Her lips were swollen from kissing him, and Dean had to admit that if there was a female version of Castiel out there in the world, she would be it, but her kiss did nothing for him, not even a spark of recognition in it.

He shook his head. "Rachel, listen. I'm really sorry, you… you're a gorgeous girl, but… But I'm not interested."

"Why?" Her voice seemed let down, though not pissed. Dean was grateful for that. He'd seen pissed Novaks.

"There's someone else…" His eyes rolled over to the now-empty main hallway, his body urging him to go follow Castiel, despite hearing his door slam shut just moments before. "Someone else…" he repeated, just for himself.

She followed his gaze. It took a moment, but all of the parts clicked together. "Oh god. You like my brother."

Dean looked almost guilty, as though he'd led her on. "Yeah."

"Oh god." She stepped away from him. "He probably so pissed."

Great. "Great."

She dropped his hand, giving him a slight push on the shoulder. "I so sorry. So sorry. Now please go get baby brother." Dean liked the pet name Castiel's sisters gave him. "I'm so sorry. Please. Go."

Dean nodded, thanking her, in part for understanding, and in part as an apology as he jogged off, hopping up the stairs. He tried to open Castiel's door. It was locked.

"Castiel let me in."

"No."

"Why?"

"No."

"I've already kicked in one door today, don't make me do another."

There was gentle padding across the floor after a minute, and Castiel's door cracked open. Dean barged in, though he wasn't expecting what he got.

Castiel had his hands on either side of Dean's neck nearly immediately, whipping him around and pinning him to the wall without much effort on his part, Dean like a limp balloon in his hands.

"Why you do it, huh? It enough to lead me on, but my sister? You not going to two time my family!"

"What!?" Dean said, and Castiel just pushed on him harder.

"Stop acting like not know! I saw kissing Rachel."

"She kissed me!"

"Like it make difference!"

"I didn't kiss back!"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Why you outside her room?"

"I was helping Alona. She stopped me."

"What you helping Alona with? Fucking her too?"

"No! No! I'm  _gay_. God."

"So? My sisters very pretty."

"I know, but you're better."

Castiel's grip had loosened enough that Dean could thrust his shoulder up, knocking his hands off of his neck. He grabbed them as soon as he could, though Castiel struggled to get them back. He got one free, but gave up on the other. "I don't want them. I want you. I've already said that."

"So? Why let her kiss you, huh?"

"I wasn't gonna smack your sister!"

They were closer than they'd been, and Dean's arm began to hurt from how fast his heart was racing, and how frustrated he'd grown. Castiel wasn't responding, so Dean did all he could. Tugging on Castiel's hand to bring him in, he kissed him, cupping his face with his free hand.

There was a brief moment where Castiel responded, tight facial features relaxing under his touch, though they were strong again in just a matter of seconds.

A hand slapped across Dean's face, and he broke the kiss with a quiet, drawn out groan, bringing a hand up to cover the sore spot where Castiel had slapped him. "What was that for?"

"Why you kiss me?"

"I was trying to get you to talk!"

"I had nothing else to say."

Dean was still holding Castiel's hand. "Then what's going to happen?"

"What you mean?"

"I mean, with us. I wanna be with you, Cas."

Castiel bit the inside of his lips, barely an indent on the outside of his stoic stature. "Was going to try you..."

"Please tell me you're still going to."

It was silent for seconds, minutes, hours even, it seemed, but Castiel finally spoke. "Yes."

Dean was still though his mind relaxed, and stepped in to Castiel after a minute, hugging him, nestling his face in to the convex of his shoulder and neck. Castiel groaned. "Why you hug?"

"Because we're a sort-of thing now. I think I can hug you."

Castiel pushed on him lightly. "Stop."

"Why?"

Castiel pushed on him harder, getting him away from his body as he stepped back. "I said so. Just cause we thing not mean you can do… do whatever. Now come." He grabbed his hand, dragging him out of his room and in to Dean's.

Dean looked around, confused, as he was left in the center of his room while Castiel walked away. "Why are we in here?"

Castiel came out of Dean's bathroom with a washrag and the minty ointment. Dean groaned, earning an eye roll. "Stop being baby." He pushed on Dean lightly when he got to him, trying to get him to sit on his bed.

Dean plopped down. "Should we be doing this now? I mean… you know… sex?"

"We not have sex tonight."

"Not going to?"

"No."

Dean pouted, though covered it up. "Why not?"

"Because," Castiel started, yawning as he began to unwrap the bandage on Dean's arm. "You injured, and as hot as is, it not good idea."

"But I want you," Dean said, reaching out with his free hand to grab Castiel's hip. The other didn't fight against it.

"I know."

"Can't I have you?"

"No." Dean was still tugging on Castiel's hip, but he didn't move until Dean's wound had the ointment rubbed over it and his bandage re-wrapped. He stepped forward, though wouldn't move any more than that, despite Dean trying to get him on to his lap.

"Please?" he begged.

"No," Castiel said again.

"Cas, please," Dean said, standing, bringing his other hand to Castiel's hip, holding him. "I want you so bad."

Castiel looked down at him. "No." He stepped back. "But you can come with me. Sleep, I guess."

"I can sleep with you?" Dean asked hopefully as he followed Castiel –who hadn't stopped moving the moment Dean began speaking– out of the room.

"We a thing now, no?"

"We are." They entered Castiel's room, and Castiel stripped off his shirt. Dean stopped to watch his muscles move and shift in awe. He wanted to reach out and touch, but was frozen. "We're a thing."

"Good." Castiel pulled down his pants, kicking them off before crawling on to his bed, laying down where he was comfortable. He didn't say anything, just simply looking back after a minute to send Dean a look, his eyebrow raised high, his eyes practically demanding him to join him.

Dean did.

He crawled in to the bed and over Castiel to wedge himself between him and the wall, kissing his nose as he settled down. Castiel scrunched his face up. "No. Not do that."

"What? This?" Dean kissed his nose again.

"I said not do," Castiel growled at him. Dean stopped, leaving them in silence for a minute. "This kind of weird," Castiel said.

"Why?"

"I usually leave by now."

"Well, just don't leave, or kick me out."

"What we do? I not… sex sleepy yet."

"It's cute when you say sleepy," Dean grinned. Castiel glared at him. "Okay, fine. You don't like that word."

"You such a pain in my ass," Castiel muttered, regretting their new arrangement just a minuscule bit. "You be so different now."

"Because you're like my boyfriend now.  _Like_ ," he emphasized as Castiel's expression. "You're not just a fuck-buddy. I can't help it."

Castiel sighed. "It take time to get used to, I suppose." Dean nodded in agreement. "So, what we do until tired?"

A shrug. "We can talk."

Castiel scrunched his face up. "About what?"

"Anything. Like, why did we stop hanging out as kids?"

"Easy," Castiel responded. "My father finish what he need with yours, and we not see each other any more. I not really know your last name, you obviously not know mine, and we… we never meet up again until now."

"What were our dads doing together?"

Castiel shrugged. "I not know."

"Is that why you didn't recognize me that day on the beach? My name, at least?"

"Probably."

"It's a shame," Dean started, leaning in to kiss Castiel, worming his hand up between their bodies to cup Castiel's cheek against his pillow. "that we were apart for so long. Who knows? We could have been best friends, or boyfriends, or-"

"-You my first kiss."

"W-what?" Dean sputtered after a moment, eyes growing wide with confusion. "No I wasn't."

"Yes you were."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Stop arguing me."

Dean shook his head. "When did we kiss? How?"

"You want full story?" Dean nodded. "Okay. So, you a little older than eight, and I almost eleven. Like, few weeks before my birthday, and I feel bad because I pretty sheltered, you know, dad not trust a lot of families. Anyway, I sheltered enough I not get… Uhhh, not get first kiss yet. But you my only friend, and you had yours already, and you kinda make fun of me, and I not… not happy. You see, and say that you sorry, and that since we so close, that maybe you can kiss me."

"And I did?"

"And I told you I not that weak, and I walk away, and then the next day I have to go to your house and we sit in that tree house and I say that we can kiss. And we did."

"Was I good?"

"You very gentle."

Dean smiled, his teeth showing. "That good?"

"For eleven year old."

Dean smiled more, kissing Castiel once again. "Hopefully I'm better now."

"Not really," he joked, grinning briefly, kissing Dean, initiating it himself for the first time since that morning.

"That's mean."

"I not care."

"I know. So, if we'd kissed before, why did you wait so long to kiss me this time?"

"Story for another time," Castiel yawned. "Time for bed."

Dean pouted, but didn't argue it, afraid Castiel would kick him out of bed. "Time for bed?" Castiel nodded, and Dean brought his hand under Castiel's cheek to rest under one of the pillows above them, his other hand coming to rest on Castiel's hip, thumb rubbing circles in to his smooth skin.

Castiel shivered. He clearly wasn't used to the touches Dean wanted to give him. Dean brushed his nose against his jaw, just to test his theory, and Castiel shivered again. He grinned, and Castiel figured out his plan.

Putting a stop to it, he kissed him hard, though Dean was having none of it, pulling back enough to make the kiss soft. Castiel groaned. "I not like being gentle."

"It's time for bed. You're supposed to be gentle."

"Well, I not like it."

"Get used to it," Dean muttered, leaning in to kiss Castiel once more, letting it linger until he pulled away with a grin. "That feels so good." Another kiss. "Goodnight, Cas."

"Where that nickname come from?" Castiel mumbled, not really bothering to wait for a response with a shake of his head. "Goodnight, Dean."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay that was fun. Regardless, I haven't even started on another chapter yet, and I have to sort of map out some more things for the last half or so of this story, so it may be kind of a while? Like, a month max, but still.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***SPOILER/WARNING*** drug use in this chapter ***SPOILER/WARNING***

 

* * *

Castiel was a pain in the ass to sleep with, and Dean was just about ready to kick him out of his own bed, but he woke up. "Hi Dean," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Hey Cas," he mumbled back, all of the frustration from how sloppily the other slept washing away as he took in how rumpled he was, and his hard cock pressing against his thigh through his boxers. "Sleep well?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I not have music. I always have music. Hard to sleep without it."

"Why didn't you put some on?"

"Though it be rude."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Has that ever been a concern for you?"

"You have point," Castiel muttered, rolling over on to his back, letting Dean take him in from the side. "I need shower."

"Want me to go?"

"Unless you want come in with me?"

Dean grinned. "Can we have sex?"

"No."

His face fell. "Then I'll pass."

"Suit yourself," he said, pushing himself up to roll of of his bed, landing gracefully on his feet. "Come join if you want."

"I think I'll just go in to my room."

Castiel didn't say anything else, just stripping off what he had on, which were his boxers, exposing his tight and toned ass to Dean.

Dean crawled haphazardly out of the bed as he stared at him, stepping to Castiel who was walking in to his bathroom. He grabbed his hips and stepped close. "You're so fucking sexy," he muttered, voice still sleep-scratchy.

"I know. Now let me shower."

"You sure you want to go in now?" he muttered, dragging his fingers across his skin, down and forward, hitting at the v in his hips. Castiel leaned his head back, hair falling on Dean's shoulder and neck. "We could have some fun…"

"Yes. I want shower."

"You sure?" Dean asked again, latching his lips on to Castiel's shoulder, feeling his muscles move underneath them.

"I… I'm sure."

"You don't sound so sure."

Castiel groaned as Dean's fingers continued to brush almost obnoxiously over the low v in his hips, moving closer to the base of his hardening cock with every swipe of his fingertips. "You have-" he gasped as Dean kissed his shoulder, brushing his fingers across him in just the right way. "-two options. You stop that now and you get in shower with me, or I beat you up."

"Can't we do both?"

"You masochist?"

"Little bit."

Castiel whipped around on him, raising his hands to clutch hard on his shoulders. "Then get in shower. Now."

Dean smirked. "Pushy."

And he was.

Dean really hadn't much of a clue as to how domineering Castiel was until he'd confessed his not-so-secret secret, unleashing a side of the other he didn't know existed until just that moment, and one he didn't want to see leave. Ever.

Castiel had him pinned up against the slick shower wall, hot water blasting down one them as he sucked harsh bruises in to his neck and shoulders, clutching hard enough on his arms to leave marks as he rolled his hips up in to him, causing the both of them to moan from time to time.

"You not allowed to turn me on," Castiel said biting Dean. "and then expect me not to fuck you."

"You wanna fuck?"

"Of course I do."

Dean smirked. "Then fuck me."

It didn't take Castiel long to step out of the shower to find a bottle of lube, nor to turn Dean and push him against the wall away from the water, pressing him face first in to the shower wall as he dropped to his knees, massaging his hands over Dean's ass. "Such a perfect ass." He kissed one of the cheeks, giving his ass another squeeze before parting him open, pressing another kiss.

Dean tensed. "What are you doing?"

"Prepping you."

"Can't you just… hurry. And do it with your fingers."

Castiel sighed. "I guess."

It didn't take him long to stretch and relax Dean, fucking him with his fingers until he was satisfied, then lubing himself up, pushing in to Dean, earning a quiet moan in return.

"Shh," he hushed, giving Dean a moment to adjust, moving once he knew he was ready, feeling his muscles relax under and around him. "We in shower. Sound carry."

"Fuck," Dean muttered, resting his forehead against the wall as Castiel pushed in and out of him, one hand grasping his shoulder, the other wrapped around him, pressing in to his belly. "It feels so good."

"It been a few days," Castiel muttered back, sliding his hand down Dean's front. "Funny how addicted we are to it."

"Ha-ard not to be," Dean hiccuped as Castiel wrapped his fingers around his cock, still pumping in and out of him. "You're so good."

Castiel smiled, fucking in to Dean a bit harder, pressing a kiss to his back as he slid his hand up his cock. "You not too bad either. And so fucking sexy."

"You think I'm se-exy?" Castiel's hand felt like heaven wrapped around him, his kisses over his back so soft compared to how hard he was being fucked, but he didn't care. It felt amazing, and he couldn't bare to hold back the moan caught in his throat anymore.

"So sexy," he responded, pumping his hand faster up and down Dean's cock, slowing to rub his thumb over the tip every once in a while, catching the drips of pre-come, urging to lap them up, up Dean was impatient, dropping his hand down to cover Castiel's, guiding it the best he could, but Castiel was stubborn, purposely slowing down just to tease Dean. He could feel him shaking beneath and around him, and he smirked.

Dean moaned again. "Cas, god. Stop teasing."

"It my favorite thing to do."

Castiel was still fucking in to him, harder and harder, and Dean was releasing small whimper and moans, face pressed hard in to the warming tiled wall, breathing hard. "Please. Cas, please…"

Castiel came in to him without much of a warning, and Dean was upset about how selfish the other had been until Castiel pulled out, turning Dean around as he dropped to his knees, grabbing his hips.

Dean braced himself against the wall behind him as Castiel moved in, licking a stripe up his cock before taking him in his mouth. Dean gasped and fisted his fingers in his hair. "Fuck, Cas."

Castiel hummed around him is response, and Dean knocked his head back against the wall. "I'm close."

Castiel hummed again, and it wasn't long before Dean was coming down his throat with a moan, sliding down the wall to his knees when Castiel pulled back. "Fuck."

Castiel smirked, letting Dean rest his head on his shoulder as he calmed down, swallowing what was left in his mouth. "Feel good?"

"You know that it fucking did."

Castiel just grinned. "Come on. We need actually shower. You can get pissy later." He pushed himself to his feet, and Dean followed him up.

"I'm not pissy."

They finished their shower, separating after to put on their own clothes before meeting down at the dining room for breakfast, both acting like there was nothing between them in front of Viktor and the rest of Castiel's family. Only one of them knew, and she was perfectly content to remain quiet about it.

Everything went fine until Viktor called them to his office.

"What we doing here?" Castiel asked as he sat himself down in his fathers chair, rolling it to the other side of the desk beside Dean, who was in a stationary wooden chair.

Viktor watched his son roll around, rolling his eyes and grabbing a different chair for himself, sitting down. "You know what in those bags we took?"

"Coke?" Castiel asked, recalling the piles of white underneath the ceiling caulk.

Viktor nodded. "Solid, bound bricks." He reached down, pulling up one of the duffle bags, dropping it on his desk. "I have no use for them, but I not going to just give them away-" he laughed. "No. That bastard still owe me money, and this how I getting it back."

They were both quiet for a moment. Dean swallowed. "Do… do you want  _us_ to  _sell_  it?"

Viktor shook his head. "No. Well, yes. You sell to  _dealers_."

"No," Castiel said bluntly, planting his feet solidly on the ground instead of the legs of his chair. "I not selling fucking  _coke_."

"Yes you are."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"I said no!"

"You want Dean gone?"

Both men on the other side of Viktor froze, and he looked satisfied about that.

"What you mean?" Castiel asked wearily, actually yearning to reach out for Dean's hand.

"I mean if you not do this, Dean will leave here. Go home."

"He is home."

"This not his actual home, Castiel!"

Castiel's fingers had tightened around the armrests of his chair, arms barred, ready to push himself to his feet, but he held back. "Who says?"

"Why you so attached to this boy?" Viktor asked, looking between the two of them.

"Can I go-"

"-No." both Viktor and Castiel blurted out, barely looking at Dean as they cut him off.

"Because he my friend," Castiel eventually said. "I know him when we young, and I know him now again. I not want send my friend in to danger. I want protect him. That why I asked you to do so."

"And you think he not want protect you? Castiel, you going to do this. Dean just be there to help you. To  _protect_ you. His  _job_."

They were quiet for a minute. "So he has to leave if we not… Sell?"

Viktor nodded. "You wouldn't have such an objection if he wasn't here. I expect you to act the same now." Castiel was still quiet, and Dean had nothing to add, so Viktor continued. "I have many men underneath me Castiel, men who do this dirty work. All I want is for you to sell to  _them_."

"Why don't you do it?"

"I can't have my face attached to it, and they know you. They trust you. Less chance of bad things happening."

"Still a chance."

"Yes or no, Castiel. Choose."

Viktor was done arguing it, and as stubborn and hard-headed as Castiel was, he knew where his bounds landed. He shoved himself out of the chair, pushing hard enough on it to send it rolling backwards as he grabbed the duffle bag on his fathers desk, slinging it over his shoulder as he turned and stormed out.

Dean scrambled up out of his chair after him, but Viktor stopped him for just a moment. "I not know what going on between you and my son, but it need to stop."

Dean looked back at him. "I don't know what you're talking about." And then he was done, chasing after Castiel who was in the main foyer, closer to the garage than him. He ran to him. "Cas! Cas, slow down."

Castiel whipped around on him. "No. Go do something else, Dean. You not coming."

"Bullshit I'm not coming. Of course I am."

"No you not." Castiel pushed Dean out of his way as he stepped in to the garage. "You staying here."

"Says who," Dean asked, walking faster to beat Castiel to his car.

"Says me."

Castiel made the mistake of unlocking his car with his beeper, letting Dean in without much of a fight. He tossed the duffle bag in the back seat before stepping to the front, refusing to get in until Dean got out. "Leave."

"Nope."

"You not coming."

"Yes I am."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

Castiel reached to his thigh for his gun, pulling it out. He aimed at Dean. "No."

Dean rolled his eyes. "That's not gonna work on me. I have a gun too."

Castiel scoffed. "As if you can hit anything."

Dean refused to budge, even when Castiel cocked it back, and the other was forced to give in, crawling up in to the seat. He put the key in he ignition, though didn't turn it on.

They were quiet. "Why don't you want me to come?"

Castiel looked at him. "I don't… need you to see this. It… nasty…"

"My job is to protect you, Castiel." Dean shifted in his seat, reaching over to cup the other's face. Castiel brought up a hand to hold on to Dean's wrist. "I know you don't need it, and I know I'm not much help, but I want to be there." He leaned in closer, brushing his nose up his cheek. "I need to be there."

Castiel was watching him, and cautiously, he leaned in, kissing Dean for a moment before breaking, separating himself from Dean completely. "Okay. You have to go along with everything. It… Dean, you can't decide to stop. It get intense. I…" He took a deep breath. "Okay." He nodded to himself. "Okay." He turned on the car. "Okay."

Despite having fought his father so viscously, Castiel seemed to know exactly what he was doing and where he was going. Dean was brought to wonder if he'd ever done this before, but that seemed to contradict his fathers words, and that was a road he didn't want to go down.

Dean didn't pursue that thought too much more.

They'd pulled up outside of what looked like an old factory and Dean felt a bit of terror just at the fact that it seemed to be such a cliche place to be murdered. He shivered despite it not being cold. "We going in there?"

Castiel nodded. "Mhmm." It was a beat before he opened his door, sliding out. He reached in to the back to grab the duffle bag, and Dean decided it was time he hopped out.

"So what do we do here?"

"Follow me." He hoisted the duffle bag over his shoulder.

Dean followed him forward to the entrance of the building, watching as he slammed his fist against the solid metal door, which cracked open enough to see them after a minute, then all the way open.

A man stepped forward. "Jacob, you douche!" The guy inside called, reaching forward to grab Castiel's shoulder. "How you doing, you fucker?"

"Busy, as usual," Castiel said back, but Dean's eyes widened in shock, and then confusion. Castiel's accent was completely gone, replaced with a vaguely Boston sounding one. And he'd responded to the name Jacob.

The man with his hand on Castiel's shoulder laughed. "I'm not surprised, man. I am not surprised." He looked over his shoulder to look at Dean. "And who's this asshole?"

"Brandon," Castiel butted in before Dean could say anything. "He's new."

"Clearly." They were in the center of the building, which looked a lot cozier than Dean had anticipated it to be. It was like somebody lived there. "So, why're you here?"

"Got some more stuff for you, man."

"Good stuff?

"The best we got."

Dean was still amazed at his accent. He missed it.

The man laughed. "You always do got it, don't you?" He laughed again. "Show me what you got, man."

Castiel dropped his bag on a metal cutting table, and the other man stepped forward, unzipping it. "Solid-pound bricks."

The man took one from the bag, flipping it in his hands before setting it down. He tore open one side of the brick, and the fine white powder dribbled out on the the table. "Buyers sample?"

Castiel laughed. "You know it."

The man laughed again, and Dean figured he was pretty happy, for a drug dealer.

He pulled out his wallet to grab a card, cutting and filing thin lines of the white powder on the table. He bent down, but froze as he looked up at the last second, noticing Dean's eyes glued to him.

He pointed, standing back up slowly. "Him first."

Dean tried not to let any shock or worry show on his face, hoping that Castiel would help him, or fix this.

"Why?" Castiel asked.

"I don't trust him."

Castiel bit the inside of his lip. "Whatever. He's cool."

"Still gotta earn my trust," he explained.

"Whatever," Castiel said again. He walked forward, up to the table. "I get to go first, though."

The man clapped his hand on the back of Castiel's shoulder. "Atta boy! Just like back when. Jacob and Michael, back at it again."

Castiel laughed, looking at Dean as he lowered down in front of the table. He was sending him a gaze, trying to get him to watch, to understand how to do this. He covered one side of his nose, and sucked up, doing the three line the other had cut out quickly.

When he pulled, back he shook his head and wiped his nose. "God, it's been a long time since I've done that." He shook his head again, then looked at Dean. "Come on, Brandon."

Dean carefully made his way forward, lowering himself down to the table in front of the lines the man, Michael, had just cut. He looked at Castiel, covering his nose. Castiel nodded almost imperceptibly at him, and Dean went for it, snorting one of the lines up.

It stung the inside of his nose all the way up through his head, burning him. He winced, but kept going, snorting up the next, then the third. The burning didn't stop, even when he stood and wiped under his nose. He shook his head continually, barely noticing when a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Hey! You're not too bad, man," Michael said, slapping his shoulder. He nudged Dean out of the way to get to the pile, and he took his chance to step to Castiel, fisting his fingers in his shirt, staring up at him with worried and pleading eyes.

"Shhh, it okay," Castiel whispered in his real voice, bringing his hand up, finger hooking under his chin, his thumb brushing across the top, right below his lip. "It okay. You going to be okay." He looked over to Michael, taking a chance to lean in and kiss Dean's nose. "You going to be okay."

Michael had finished the line, so Castiel stepped back, making Dean let go of his shirt. He nodded at him a few times, letting him know once again, that he would be okay.

"Looks clean," Michael said, turning back to Castiel. "What you selling for?"

Castiel looked over at the duffle bag, then back at Michael. "Thirty a brick."

Michael groaned, but Dean didn't understand why. He had more than that in his wallet. "Man, that's too much."

"That's what it's going for on the streets."

"Exactly why I can't go that high."

Castiel sighed, looking over the bricks again. "I can go twenty-six. No less."

Michael groaned again, bringing his hand up to run through his hair. "Fuck, man…"

"It's good stuff."

"It is…" He dragged his hand down his face, looking back over at the bag. "Fuck, man. You got it."

Michael turned to stalk off to one of the safes he had in the farthest back corner of the room they were in. Castiel turned to Dean, stepping to him to grab his hand, squeezing it quickly. "You doing good."

Dean was still freaking out, but he nodded. He was terrified. The drugs weren't doing much of anything to him at the moment, and he was almost hopeful that they wouldn't have an effect, but he knew it was pointless to waste wishes on things that would never come true.

He was staring at Castiel when Michael spoke. "So you hear about all the shit going down between the families these past few months?"

"No," Castiel replied, turning and hopping up on the table by the duffle bag. Dean stepped over to him, leaning on the cool metal beside him. He placed a hand on Castiel's thigh. "What's going on?"

"Well the Matveevs stole that one boy. The Novak's kid." Dean wondered how weird it was for Castiel to hear gossip about his on family. "But the two guys who took him were attacked by some lifeguard. That one guy died but the other came back and told his story. And then apparently there were some hits put out, and there's all this shit going down. I'd anticipate a war pretty damn soon."

"Really?" Dean asked, and Castiel elbowed him lightly.

"Yep," Michael said, working his way back over to Castiel with stacks of bound bills in his hands. Dean took his hand off of Castiel's thigh.

Michael handed the stacks to Castiel who began to count while he took out the bricks of cocaine from the bag. "I've got fifteen," he said as Castiel finished counting the stacks.

"I've got four hundred." He counted out 1000, handing it back to Michael, who gave him the empty bag. He dropped the stacks of bills in to it.

"You're a good kid, Jacob," Michael said, clapping Castiel's back as he hopped off of the table, slinging the now-zipped bag over his shoulder. "You're a good kid."

"You're not too bad yourself," Castiel said, shaking Michael's shoulder. They smiled and laughed at each other. Castiel looked back over his shoulder. "He doesn't look like he's doing to good." He turned back to Michael. "Never really been in to hard drugs."

Michael nodded. "He'll get used to it."

The both laughed and looked at Dean, who did look a little worse off for wear. His eyes were wide, but he tried to remain normal. "That he will. I should probably get him somewhere else, though."

"Taking your money and running." Michael laughed and shook his head. "Whatever, man. Hit me up some other time. You know I'm always good for it."

"I know it."

There was a pause where they were unsure of what to do, but Castiel stuck out his hand, and Michael grabbed it. They shook and laughed, dropping their hands. "I need to go now."

Michael nodded as Castiel began to walk out, his fingers curling in to Dean's shirt to keep him walking behind him. "I'll see you later, man."

"Yeah," Castiel said with a final nod, stepping out of the building. He walked faster once the door was shut, getting Dean to the car and strapped in, tossing the duffle bag in the back before hopping in the front.

He started up the car, peeling out of the lot where they were. "Shit, Dean. Are you okay?" His voice was finally back to normal.

"I'm really hot, and your eyes are big."

Castiel looked over at him. "Shit. This stuff is taking effect fast."

Dean blinked a few times. "Why did he think thirty a pound was so much? that's not that much."

"Thirty  _thousand_ , Dean."

That makes sense. "Shit. That's a lot of money."

"It sure is." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not gonna make it home." He took a quick turn, heading away from where Dean knew their house was.

"Where are we going?"

"Safe house. Or, apartment."

"I feel like I'm in some sort of noir film when I'm around you. Guns. Drug deals. Sex. It's crazy."

"Yeah, well, you wanted me."

"And I still do. God. It's all so hot." Dean stretched his legs, pushing down on his crotch, turning his head back he pushed it in to the head rest.

Castiel was watching him. "Dean.. Dean, are you horny?"

"Oh god yes."

Castiel laughed. "Much better than being nervous, huh?"

Dean rolled around the best he could. "I don't have much of a choice."

"Just don't fight it."

He didn't. It was a blur for him, getting in to the apartment Castiel had pulled up to, and really not that much better once he was inside, but it was happier in there. Castiel had finally loosened up, and they were laughing at nothing, and how seemingly hard it was to walk with the floor doing the moving for them.

They had collapsed in to each other on the bed in one of the back rooms, and Dean had kissed him right there.

It took some time for them to actually get to having sex, both too enamored with each other's hair, or eyes, or touch, all of them so new. Castiel's skin didn't feel like his skin when Dean touched it, and Dean's lips didn't feel the same, but it was so familiar, and so exciting, neither one of them wanted to stop.

Dean didn't know where he was when he finally woke up, but he was naked with Castiel wrapped around him, bites and hickeys all over their bodies. He didn't really care.

Castiel woke up after a while, and they lay in bed together, still trying to sober up. Not so much from the drugs, but sleep itself. When he felt better, Castiel led Dean down to the car, and he took off towards home.

"Is that was coke is always like?" Dean asked, head resting against the cool window of the car.

"Sometimes. It different every time."

"Wow…"

They were quiet. "Did you really not know what I meant by 'thirty' last night?"

Dean laughed, one in part from how stupid he'd probably sounded, and the rest from the fact that it was about 3am. "I think I was just nervous."

"I could tell. You have some amazing fucking sex when you high, though. You.. it was good."

Dean grinned. "Really?"

They'd pulled up to the gate, where Castiel swiped his card. It lifted in front of them, and Dean wondered how cool that would have been to look at just a few hours before. "Yeah. You did this thing, with your hips… At least I think you did. Maybe I just really high."

Dean laughed. "It was kinda scary when it happened…"

"…But it was fun, right?" Castiel finished his sentence for him, and Dean nodded.

"So fun."

They let the car remain silent as the drove the winding road back to Castiel's home. Once in the garage, Dean crawled out, following Castiel, who had grabbed the duffle bag, back in to the house and straight to his father's office, where he was still up taking calls.

He threw the duffle bag on his desk. "Sold all fifteen for twenty-six a piece. Now, if you don't mind, I going to bed, and suck Dean's dick. I think we've both deserved that."

Viktor's eyes were wide as he stared at his son, who had appeared from nowhere to him. "What? No."

"What? No sleeping, or no sucking dick? Because I doing both of those tonight."

Dean was shocked at how easily Castiel spoke of his sex life in front of his father.

"Why you saying this to me?" Viktor asked.

"Because I apparently have thing with Dean! Enough of thing for you to risk me falling in to addiction again. I did lines tonight, father."

"And why'd you do that?"

"Because I had to sell stupid fucking _cocaine._ " He scoffed. "Who cares. I need sleep." He turned his back on his father, storming out of the room. "Dean. Now," he demanded over his shoulder, not bothering to stop.

He didn't have to. Dean followed him through the house and up to his room, where, to his surprise, he hugged him after the door was shut. It was a hard hug, one where he slammed himself in to him, arms wrapping so tight around him Dean couldn't move.

He didn't want to.

He wrapped his arms around him the best he could. "Cas?"

"I was scared earlier, Dean. It your first time doing it ever, but it my first time in years. I… Oh god…" He squeezed Dean tighter, and he wasn't going to complain. Castiel was showing true compassion.

"What happened? What's wrong? We got through it okay, didn't we?"

"We did. But Dean, I was an addict. I so scared I'd fall back in to it. That it'd feel so good I couldn't resist." He pulled back enough to look at Dean. "You kept me grounded."

They kissed, Castiel raising his arms up to wrap around Dean's neck, fingers fisting in his hair while Dean dropped his arms down low, cupping under his ass to hold him close.

And all they did was kiss. It was the first time where it was a mutual kiss that didn't lead up to something else. It was a proclamation of feelings, and thanks, and true care for each other. They weren't going to have sex after, and the kiss wasn't done just for the hell of it.

They were kissing almost out of love, and it was amazing.

"Can we please sleep," Castiel asked when he broke, his breathing hard. He didn't want to break away from Dean, so he didn't.

Dean didn't break away either. "Of course." He kissed him softly. "Come on."

He cradled him close as he led him over to his bed, laying him down to take of their clothes before guiding him to scoot up his bed.

He kissed him when he had him situated comfortably on his pillows. He had himself propped up by his elbow right beside him. "Thank you, Cas."

"No. Thank you."

Dean smiled down at him, cupping his face. He rubbed his thumb across his cheek. "You were so brave for me today."

"Not really."

"You kept me safe."

"And you did so for me, too."

He was watching him with a smile, amazed at how open Castiel was being with him that night.

"You're very open tonight."

"You deserve it." Castiel's eyes were drifting shut. He was already half asleep.

Dean looked over him, taking every little thing he could, from the few nicks on his face to his soft and pouty lips and gentle eyes looking up at him.

He laughed, ready for bed himself. "I can't believe you let me break your shell."

"It be right back up tomorrow."

He nestled himself down on Castiel's chest, removing his hand from his face to rest across his stomach. "I know. Just let me enjoy it for now."

"I not imagine doing anything else."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry this took so long. I was just busy, and you guys, I'm really bad at sex scenes, and to start off a chapter that way... I just couldn't get in to it, and then I was really busy again...
> 
> I hate to say it, but the next chapter may be just as long a wait as this one. Maybe not, because Christmas break is in 3 weeks, and I'll have times then, plus the rest of this weekend, but who knows...
> 
> I also didn't want to end the chapter this way, but I figured it was an okay place to stop, and I really needed to get this out, so... Yeah.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for sticking with this despite my shitty updating. It means a lot!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow sorry this took about 9000 years but some cool stuff happens I think so

 

 

Castiel was an absolute mess. It had only been once, but the lines he had done the day before had him reeling, wanting just another taste of it. Dean was glad none was left in the house. He didn't think he could hold the other back if there was.

But it gave them time to be together. They had to keep Castiel on house lock-in, unwilling to let him go out for fear that he'd find some coke on the street. There were moments when he physically fought Dean to go out, but he mostly spent his time in their living room, watching television shows that didn't have much substance.

He snapped out of it after about two weeks. Dean didn't know what happened, but he came downstairs one morning to find Castiel sleep rumpled and curled up on the couch with a blanket around him, the television on.

"Cas?" he asked, and Castiel looked up.

"Dean? Hi Dean."

Dean smiled, walking over to him. "How're you feeling?"

"I not sleep," he responded, patting the seat beside him. Dean plopped down, and Castiel curled in to him, nuzzling his nose against his neck.

Dean laughed. "Your nose is freezing! What are you doing?"

"I not having urges."

"What?"

"Urges. I not having any."

Dean looked down at him, wrapping an arm around him, holding on to his shoulder. "None?"

"None."

"Baby," Dean started, stretching across his body to cup Castiel's chin, tipping his head up to kiss him. Castiel hadn't reacted to the pet-name, but Dean wasn't going to make a habit of using it. They both smiled when they broke the kiss. "That's so amazing."

"It because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Because of you."

Castiel was grinning up at Dean, and Dean couldn't help but to smile back. "You're cute and happy when you're tired."

"Don't get used to it."

"Cas…" Dean bumped his nose against his, and Castiel leaned up to kiss him, pulling his warm hands out of the blanket to cup his face. He broke the kiss to shift himself, straddling Dean's lap with the blanket still around him, and then kissed him again.

It started off soft, their touches light on each other, but Castiel's tongue barely brushed Dean's lips, and they were off, hands sliding under clothes and over skin, tongues fucking in to each other's mouths, moans escaping with every roll of their hips.

Dean had his hand up the back of Castiel's shirt, the other on his neck when Viktor came in. "What are you doing!?"

He was so shocked he jumped, knocking Castiel off of his lap, though one of his legs remained around him as he fell between the small gap between his thigh and the arm rest of the couch.

Castiel had one of his hands in Dean's hair, and he refused to remove it as Dean tried to explain himself. "Well, I'm, uhh…-"

"-Making out with my son? What are you doing to him!?"

"Uhh, you just sai-"

"-Why!?"

Castiel was twirling his finger in Dean's hair, right behind his ear, and Dean couldn't help but to relax in to it, losing his train of thought. "Oh…" he breathed when Castiel moved in closer, kissing the side of his jaw.

Viktor's eyes hardened. "What are  _you_   _doing_!?"

"I, uhhh… Listen. This explainable. Castiel and I are ju… Jus…" Castiel had leaned in closer, kissing the corner of his lips, bringing his other hand up to reach across Dean, fingers working across his jaw to face him, kissing him full on the lips. Dean kissed him back.

Viktor's eyes were on fire, and he stepped aggressively at Dean. "Stop that! Let go of my son!"

"I'm not touching him!"

Castiel changed that. He turned his body, crawling back on to Dean's lap, letting one hand go down to hold his bicep, the other still fisted in his hair as he nuzzled in to his neck, pressing wet kisses where his lips fell.

"Stop!"

Dean held up his hands, looking at Viktor over Castiel's shoulder. "This isn't my doing!"

He stepped toward him again. "You grown boy!"

"Fine! I don't want to stop it! I love kis-" Castiel kissed him hard, fucking his tongue into his mouth without warning. His fingers were now massaging the back of his scalp, and he was whimpering quietly, trying to get Dean to moan, who brought his hands to rest on his hips.

"Oh god," Dean finally moaned against Castiel's lips, and that was the breaking point for Viktor, who stepped forward and grabbed the back of Castiel's shirt, yanking him back.

It happened fast, but Dean brought his other hand up to bar across Castiel's back, right below his shoulder blades, his fingers tightening on his hips, leaning forward and Castiel tightened his knees on his thighs, both trying to hold on to each other as Viktor pulled Castiel back.

Castiel was almost stuck in limbo, his shirt awkwardly high up around his neck as his father pulled him back, his abdomen practically floating in between the two men. He reached out with his hands, grabbing on to Dean's arms to support himself.

Dean's eyes were switching between Castiel and his father, waiting for one of them to speak.

Viktor took the lead.

"Let go of him."

Dean shook his head, looking in Castiel's eyes as he leaned even farther forward, resting his chin on Castiel's stomach. "No," he said, breaking his gaze from Castiel to look at Viktor. "I'm not letting him go." He shook his head some more, and Castiel brought one of his hands up to cup Dean's cheek. He leaned in to it, closing his eyes and whimpering softly.

"Let go," Viktor repeated, but Dean ignored him. "I said let. Go."

"I said no."

"Now."

Dean refused, instead glaring at Viktor, keeping the three of them locked in a standstill until Castiel spoke.

"Let me go." Castiel was looking at Dean, but his legs were still clamped tight around his thighs. Neither of them moved. "Father," he said, voice hard and stern.

Viktor looked shocked, but he eventually let go. Castiel thrusted himself forward as soon as he was free, wrapping his arms tight around Dean, who did the same in return.

"Don't worry," Dean muttered, rubbing a hand up and down his back. "I've got you."

"Don't you let me go."

Dean brought a hand up to cup the back of Castiel's head, pulling him back enough to get in to his neck. He kissed along the faint red line his shirt had left. "Are you okay?" Castiel nodded. "Your neck feel alright?"

"Fine, Dean."

Dean dropped his hands to his hips and pulled back enough to look at Castiel, who nodded once, then leaned in, kissing Dean before shifting on his lap, putting his legs on the same side of Dean's thighs, turning enough to look at his father, who looked about ready to kill Dean. "Father?"

Viktor's eyes were hard, never wavering from Dean. "What?"

Dean put his hand across Castiel's knees."Father. Dean… Dean is… boyfriend. My boyfriend."

He snapped his eyes to his son. "What? No."

"Yes." Dean wrapped his other arm around Castiel's hips, and the other shifted closer, leaning in to him.

"I say no."

"I say yes!"

"Not in my house," Viktor finalized.

Castiel scoffed. "What you going to do? I twenty." He smirked. "I can do what I want."

"Not in my house."

"What, you going kick me out?"

Viktor swallowed. No. He wasn't. But he didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to watch his son doing… what he did with the man he was doing it with. He shook his head. "I not like it."

"You don't have to. I the only one who does." He turned his head to kiss Dean, who smiled when they pulled apart.

Viktor didn't know how to react. Castiel had himself pretty well attached to Dean, and he knew he couldn't separate them without physically hurting Castiel. He sighed and stormed off, and Castiel immediately relaxed in to Dean.

Dean grinned. "You called me your boyfriend."

Castiel sighed. "Dean. Not now."

"What?"

"You going to do that 'we boyfriends now' thing."

"What's so wrong with that?"

"You know I not like it."

Dean sunk under Castiel, and the other curled in to him more. "But, just for record, we are."

"I just wish you'd be more enthusiastic about it."

"You know how I am, Dean. You know I not going to be that way." He turned his head, cupping Dean's jaw to kiss his cheek, close to the corner of his lips. He didn't drop his hand. "But that not mean I not want to be with you. Because I do. Very much."

Dean leaned forward, bumping his nose against Castiel's jaw, earning a kiss in return. They both smiled, and Dean wrapped his arms tighter around Castiel, holding on to his hips and his knees. "So, how do you feel? You said no urges…"

"And I mean it. I… I not think it going to be a problem anymore."

Dean leaned in, kissing Castiel's cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Cas," he muttered, nuzzling his nose against his neck once Castiel dropped his hand from his jaw.

Castiel laughed. "Let's watch movie."

He left Dean to flip through their movie collection, choosing a few to watch while Castiel went to get more blankets, though they weren't entirely useful, the two of them remaining curled up on the couch, kissing each other and exploring their faces and bodies lazily during the films.

It got heated as time went on, Dean with one hand curled in Castiel's hair and another up his shirt while Castiel's was in Dean's pants as they kissed. "Your room," they both breathed at the same time when they pulled away.

They laughed. "My room," Castiel clarified, crawling off of Dean, pulling him up. Dean placed his hand on Castiel's ass as they walked up the stairs toward his room.

Castiel paused at one of the hallways, and Dean sent him a look. "What?"

"That door is open."

"So?"

"It never open."

Castiel turned to walk down the hall, and Dean followed him. "So?"

"I want know who in there."

Dean kept up with him, leaving his hand on his ass the best he could, not willing to let go, even when Castiel rounded the corner to enter the room and froze.

"What you doing?" he asked as he walked in, Dean following closely.

Viktor was on the floor, a few books around him. He looked up from the book, which Dean figured out was a photo album. "What it look like?"

"Baby pictures?"

Viktor shrugged. "You not quite that young in these, but yes."

Castiel narrowed his eyes, but not out of anger, and made his way over toward his father, peering over him at the book. "Why you looking at these?" he asked as he plopped himself down, urging Dean to follow, sitting just behind him.

Viktor looked over at him, then back to Dean, then once again to his son. "Because you no longer my little boy," he sighed. "Figure I can still enjoy it here."

"But I still your son."

"Of course you are."

Castiel was quiet as he looked at the book in his father's lap. He smiled to himself. "I remember that day. Alona…" He laughed. "She so pissed."

Viktor laughed with him. "You not have to deal with her after though."

"Neither did you! Mom did."

"It you fault, though."

"I two!" Castiel laughed and looked back at Dean, gesturing for him to come closer and look.

They were looking at, Dean presumed, a photo of a very angry Alona with cake covering her upper half, Rachel and and another girl laughing in the background, and Castiel on the ground, poutting up at the camera with tears brimming on his eyes.

Dean laughed. "What happened?"

Viktor took a passing glance back at him, then back to the book. "It Castiel's birthday, and Alona, my wife," he clarified. "insisted on a birthday party for him. Lots of things were happening, and she afraid it would be last time for her to do something like that for him while in Russia. And she was right, we move a little over a year later, but we so busy she couldn't throw another party…"

He shook his head. "Anyway, Castiel fell on ground, and Alona was chasing him, and she tripped over him and fell in to table, and hit the cake, and it went…" He laughed. "It went all over her. Castiel…" He laughed again. "We not sure if he crying because Alona fell on him, or because his cake was destroyed. It funny either way."

"It because of cake," Castiel said in defense of himself. "I mean, why Alona get all of it to herself?"

All three of them laughed, and Dean situated himself to sit comfortably. Castiel noticed and looked back, turning and reaching back to pull him forward and on to his lap. Dean wrapped his arms around him, and Castiel held him close. "Flip the page," he said to his father, who did so.

There were tons of pictures of the children, of their old home back in Russia, which was thousands of times nicer than Dean's, yet still not as nice as the one they were in now. Photographs of them as they moved to America, and Viktor and his wife in front of landmarks and opening their new home.

And pictures of himself with Castiel.

"Where was that taken?" Dean asked, pointing to one of Castiel pinning him to the ground, the both of them covered in mud. He grimaced a bit, however. He hadn't seen a young photo of himself in years.

"In you old garden," Viktor said, finally looking over to the pair of them. He didn't seem ecstatic about Dean in Castiel's lap, but he didn't comment on it. "You mom wanted to plant flowers, and you two offer to do it. You obviously  _not_  do it." He laughed, and Castiel rested his chin on Dean's shoulder.

"Why we fighting?"

Viktor shrugged. "Who knows. You two fight like old married couple all the time. Every little thing had you two wrestling. You broke so much stuff…"

The two boys laughed, and Viktor properly looked at them. "You know," he said after taking in the pair. "I not that upset about you two being together. Castiel, you grown man. You can do what you want. But…" He looked back to the book, flipping to a picture of Castiel at Dean's birthday. They were smiling like idiots, their faces too close to the camera. "You my only son. It hard to believe you not my little boy anymore."

"I not know you sentimental," Castiel replied, and his father narrowed his eyes at him.

"You always the confrontal child. You argue everything always."

"I know," he grinned, wiggling beneath Dean, shaking his shoulders in pride.

"And you always proud of it. You sisters… They not always good, but not all bad. But you… You most like your mother. Strong willed and powerful and you get and do what you want when you want."

Castiel laughed. "It had to go to someone."

"And of course it'd be my only son. You know," Viktor said. "You lucky you a cute child. You such a hell raiser, I could have thrown you out a window. You break vase, and then when you about to get in trouble, you open you eyes so big and pout and there not a chance in hell we could punish you."

Castiel laughed and kissed Dean's neck. "Just like now."

"What you mea- Oh," Viktor cut himself off, noticing Castiel kissing up Dean's neck. Castiel grinned against Dean's skin, and Viktor continued. "You know, I not sure why you so insist to sharre your sex life."

"I tell you everything."

"Maybe you not do that anymore," Viktor replied, and all three of them laughed. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just hope you two know what you getting in to." Castiel was nuzzling his nose gently in to Dean's neck, and he bit back a small smile. "Love can be dangerous in this work."

Castiel snorted and Dean blushed. "We not in love," Castiel said, and Viktor looked at him.

"You will be."

"Who says?"

"I can see it."

Castiel shoved his face in to Dean's neck, shaking his head. "Oh god. I need just  _pound_ Dean to get this sappy shit out of my head."

" _Language_ ," Viktor warned, and Castiel pulled back to glare at him.

"I need to  _fucking_ pound Dean's perfect  _fucking ass_ to get this sappy  _shit_ out of my  _god-damned_ head." He raised an eyebrow in challenge, and Viktor shook his head, closing the photo album, pushing himself to his feet.

"I really not need to know that. You go on and…" he shook his head, and began to walk away.

Castiel pushed Dean off of his lap, and scrambled to his feet, running up to Viktor. He slammed his body in to him, hugging him. "Thank you, father."

Viktor hugged him back. "I love you, son."

Castiel pulled away with a smile, and Viktor clapped his shoulder, sending a look to Dean. "You be good to my boy."

"Wouldn't dream of being anything else."

Viktor glared at him, and Dean felt his insides begin to sink despite there not being much of a threat. He left, and Dean relaxed.

"You better not be good boy in bed," Castiel said, stepping to Dean's side, placing his hand on his ass.

"I know how you like it rough," Dean replied, turning and stepping in front of Castiel to face him, the other's hand still on his ass. He let his hands fall to his hips, tugging him in close, bumping their noses together. "You know, I'm still up for sex right now, if you're in the mood."

"I not," he responded, and Dean's eyes widened. He continued. "It hard to want to fuck you after seeing pictures of you as little boy."

"What? The sight of me as a kid makes you not be attracted to me?"

Castiel pressed his hips against Dean's, raising both of his arms to drape over Dean's shoulders, one bending in to finger at his hair. "Oh no. Dean, you  _so_ hot.  _Nostalgia_ turn me off."

Dean pouted, though he didn't mean it, dropping his head down to nose at Castiel's jaw, making him tip his head back and expose his neck. Dean kissed at it softly. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, voice low. "I know how much you love sex."

"Oh, I do."

"But maybe you'll be ready for it a bit later, hmm?" Dean tilted his head back up, kissing Castiel's cheek. "Ready to fuck me nice and hard."

"Maybe after our date."

Dean pulled back, though not by much, keeping their hips together. "What?" Castiel stared at him until he continued. "We're going on a date?"

Castiel nodded. "I think we should. You know, go to dinner, have nice time, have good sex when we get home. You know, a date."

"So you're wining me before you dine me?"

"I not understand that."

Dean laughed. "I didn't use it right. But you're gonna treat me nice before you fuck me tonight, huh?"

"You my boyfriend. I feel I should."

"We don't have to if you don't really want to."

"I do want to."

Dean smiled. "Then maybe I should get ready."

"Maybe you should."

Dean's smile widened, and he leaned back in, kissing Castiel. He pulled away. "I'll see you in a little bit?"

"I meet you at my car in hour."

"Okay." He stepped back from Castiel, letting his hands drag over his hips slowly, keeping his fingers on him as long as he could. "Okay."

He walked back, watching Castiel until he was out of sight, and then ran up to his room.

He met Castiel back down at his car an hour later, dressed in half decent attire, which to both of them meant polo shirts and dark jeans. They laughed when they saw each other, and Castiel tossed his keys at Dean. "You may be my boyfriend," he explained, noticing Dean's confusion. "and I may be taking you out, but you still my guard and driver."

Castiel moved to the passenger side, hopping in, waiting until Dean had started the car and was almost to the gate to tell him where they were going.

"Downtown?" Dean confirmed. "Everything is so expensive there though."

"And I rich as balls. It not issue."

"And who says you're going to be paying?"

"I asked you out. I pay."

Dean sighed. "I don't like people spending money on me."

"Too bad."

"You're the worst."

"I know."

Their dinner was actually nice. Castiel had taken him to a restaurant with delicious food and an atmosphere that allowed them to converse freely, which was new for Dean, and Castiel rarely ever spoke if it wasn't in euphemisms, demands, or hilarious mixed-english answers to questions Dean asked.

It was all cut short too soon, however.

"We being watched," Castiel muttered, taking a drink of his beer.

"What?"

"Big huge men at two, far five, and eight."

Dean took a little while to scan his eyes over the men inconspicuously. They never looked away from their table, and Dean felt a wave of terror wash over him. "What do we do?"

"Finish our meal, and run."

The waiter brought over the check, and Castiel pulled out his wallet, tossing down cash instead of his card. "I not want them to see my name," he said. "They not need to confirm it me."

Dean bit his lip. "Do I need to go start the car?"

Castiel nodded. "Act natural, like you're going to the bathroom."

"The bathroom's downstairs."

"They have an exit," he said, smiling at the waiter as he picked up the cash. "Take it, run and get the car, and I'll meet you outside."

"Okay." He nodded. "Okay."

"Go," Castiel said, drinking some more of his drink, watching Dean as he walked away to the bathroom. Dean took a sharp turn at the entrance to the stalls, and hit outside. There was a set of steps that he ran up, looking around for the car which was on the other side of the building. He sprinted to the other side, unlocking and hopping in to the car.

The moment he started it up, the spotted a figure behind it, running at it. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck," he muttered, backing out the the space fast and hard, hitting the figure. "Oh god. Oh god!" he shouted, peeling out of the lot and on to the street toward the front of the restaurant. "I hope that wasn't Cas."

He stopped outside of the entrance, waiting and waiting for Castiel. There was no sign of him, and he bent down to fiddle with the keys, worming the electronic beeper off of the key before hopping out, locking the car and running in to the restaurant.

There was food all over the floor, and Castiel was fighting one of the huge men. The other one was kicked in to a table that was broken under his weight and the third Dean assumed he had hit with his car.

The man Castiel was fighting had a knife in his hand, and there were a few dead bodies around them with what looked like slit throats and bullet wounds. Dean assumed the man knocked out in the table was the one with the gun, but the man with the knife was over powering Castiel, and he couldn't do anything but reach in to his pants and pull out his gun, shooting the man in the hand, and then the shoulder.

Castiel kicked the man in the stomach and began to run to the door as soon as he was free. "Come on! Come on! fucking run you idiot fucking run!" Castiel shot passed Dean and Dean followed after him, sprinting ahead of him and hitting the beeper on the car. The doors unlocked and Dean jumped in, Castiel shortly after him. Dean slammed the car out of park and slammed the gas, but the car didn't move.

"Parking break!" Castiel screamed, noticing one of the men running out of the restaurant. "GO! GO GO GO!" He unlatched the break and peeled back into the roadway as the man shot at them, the bullets breaking through the back window in the car.

Dean screamed and swerved, almost hitting a car, swerving to avoid it and almost hitting another in the process.

"Shit! Fuck oh shit oh my god," Dean shouted out, noticing the man pointing toward them. "I think they have someone else following us!"

"We need to go faster!"

There was a car that came up on them quickly and Castiel glared at Dean and then back at the car. "Shit! Go go go go go go!"

Dean slammed the gas, getting the car up to full speed. He was grateful the roads were mostly empty as it made it easier for him to swerve and avoid them as he went full speed, but it also made it easier for the other car to follow him.

"Cas, shoot at him."

"It not going to do anything other than piss him off."

"That what do we do!?"

Castiel was staring out the window. "Make left up here, make another left, sharp right, follow the alley and then another right there be a tunnel. Go down it."

"What?"

"You heard me!"

"What!?"

"Left! Now!"

Dean slammed on his breaks and turned the wheel sharply, skidding around the corner, almost missing it as the tail end of the car swung too far, but he hit it alright.

"Turn again!" Castiel shouted," and Dean hit the wheel, skidding around the corner again. "Right!" Castiel shouted before the turn was even over and Dean switched the wheel as fast as he could, yelling as the car skidded around, leaning on to two wheels. He thought for sure they would flip and be stuck and die right there at the hands of the people chasing him.

They shot in to the alley, and Dean gunned it going down the narrow path, hitting plastic trash cans and bags shooting papers out all around them until the hit the end, where Dean hit the final right. There was a tunnel to his left, and he turned down it.

It was practically empty, and he could finally relax as they went. It was a few minutes later and he saw no one, he laughed, relaxing his body just a bit, and a bit more every minute after that where they weren't followed.

He never relaxed completely, but when he was finally calm enough to talk, he did. "Holy shit, Cas! You got us out of that!" He reached over to slap his thigh, laughing. "Holy shit, you fucking genus you!"

Castiel was quiet. "Yeah."

"Holy shit." Dean looked in the rearview mirror, taking in the broken window. "Holy. Shit." He laughed again out of relief. "We're alive. Oh god."

"You did good," Castiel muttered, and Dean looked over at him.

"Where are we going?"

"Safe house. Hopefully."

"Hopefully?"

"I not know if anyone be there. If someone there, we have to keep going."

Dean nodded. "Who would be there?"

"Matveevs."

"Are they who attacked us?"

Castiel nodded. "The man knife-fighting me was Ivan Matveev. I hate him because he my age and his name is my middle one," he said sarcastically.

"Your middle name is Ivan?" Dean laughed, in disbelief of what Castiel was saying.

"Well, one of them. Viktor the other one."

"I figured," Dean replied. He noticed he was still speeding, but had no intention of slowing down. "So why are they after you?"

"We kill one of their men. And remember that man who you let get away when you save me?" Dean nodded. "That Ivan."

"Oh shit."

Castiel nodded. "Yeah."

"So, where is this place?"

"We have a road about twenty miles up. You turn down that, go about two miles in, and there house. That where we going.

"We'll be safe there?"

"Safer than back in city. And we have more escape route."

Dean nodded, and they fell in to silence as they drove, not speaking aside from when Castiel told Dean to turn.

When they got out of the car at the house, Castiel led Dean in, checking over each and every nook and cranny, making sure there wasn't a single thing off before he let down his guard, dropping everything in his hands, stepping forward and slamming in to Dean, raising his hands to cup his face and fuck his tongue in to his mouth as he kissed him, knocking him in to a wall.

Dean didn't know what to do, so he dropped his hands down to Castiel's ass, but Castiel dropped his hands as well, grabbing Dean's and pinning them to the wall, not breaking the kiss for a second until he had to pull away to breathe.

He kept Dean pinned to the wall, but dropped his head down to his chest, breathing heavily as he relaxed on him. Dean blinked down at him. "Ca-"

"-Don't. Don't say a fucking thing."

Dean didn't do anything. He just let Castiel keep him pinned to the wall, his head on his chest until he was ready to speak. "Cas?"

"Dean," Castiel warned, staying silent for another minute, but then he sighed. "I… I need to be in control. That wasn't control. That was…" He took a few deep breaths. "I think we should have sex."

Castiel looked dead exhausted, but Dean didn't question it. "Would that make you feel better?"

"Much."

"I'm yours."

Castiel dropped his hands from Dean to let him relax, and dragged him over to the bed. He pushed him down and stripped him before stripping himself.

Dean smiled. "Cas, you're wearing panties."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Yeah. now I'm going to take them off."

Dean pushed himself up and on to his knees, crawling across the bed, stopping Castiel's hands before he could pull them down. "Why do you have panties on? Are they… for me?"

"I thought it might be fun. But that ruined by… well."

Dean blinked slowly, raking his eyes up and down Castiel's body, focusing on the bulge in the panties where they were stretched taught, not even touching his body anymore. "It's not ruined, Cas. Not at all."

"What you mean, Dea-" He cut himself off as Dean leaned in and down, mouthing hot at the bulge. Castiel moaned at tipped his head back, stretching his fingers forward to brush Dean's cheek.

"I'm really turned on right now," Dean admitted, pulling back from Castiel, crawling backward, gesturing Castiel forward. Castiel crawled on to the bed, and Dean tugged him close. "But Cas, you look exhausted."

"I'm not. I'm fine. Sex."

Dean pushed Castiel down on to the bed, keeping him pinned. "You need to sleep.

"I'm fine."

Dean kissed him, laying down beside him, keeping the kiss soft and un-rushed, trying to keep him down. "Let's sleep, Cas. We had a huge night." He kissed him again. "If you still want, we can have sex in the morning."

"I want it now," Castiel whined, but didn't fight Dean, keeping his eyes mostly shut.

"Sleep."

Castiel wormed himself forward, pressing in to Dean. "But sex…"

"Go to sleep, Cas." He kissed his forehead, rolling away to turn off the light. He curled back in to him. "I'll be here in the morning."

"Promise."

"I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yay.
> 
> Anyway, I think I have a plan for the rest of this story, and, uhh, there'll be death.
> 
> Okay I lied. I only really have a plan for the next chapter, but I'm about 99 percent sure about this death and about 78 on this other one (both for the next chapter) so if you'd like to know who I'm planning to avoid a trigger or something, let me know. I don't consider them major characters, but you might, so if it'll be an issue, please let me know.
> 
> There'll also be a warning before the next chapter, just to remind you.
> 
> Anyway, I'll be busy for a while as the end of semester is coming up and I have a TON of stuff to do, so be prepared for DUN DUN DUN a wait. Wow. What a shocker with this story.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, and hit me up with any questions you have


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's seriously been like 6 months and I am so incredibly sorry for this and the delay between chapters, and that this isn't nearly as long as I wanted it to be, but I just couldn't pump anything else out.
> 
> I'm sorry for those of you who really enjoy this story. You deserve to have it told right, and I'm just not doing that. Regardless, I hope you stay around.
> 
> I'm sorry for how short this is.

 

Dean woke up early in the morning, before it was even light out, though not for any other reason besides it feeling strange. He couldn't place a finger on it until he breathed in deeply and pulled the body in front of him closer. Shampoo.

He blinked a few times, wanting to rub his eyes but  _not_ wanting to wake up Castiel, who was sleeping with his back to Dean and pressed as absolutely close as he could be. They were spooning, and Dean was the big one this time.

Giving up on not waking Castiel, he smiled, kissing behind his ear as he relaxed back on to his pillow. "Castiel? Castiel."

Castiel groaned and reached back to slap at Dean's thigh. "Shut up."

"You do know you're letting me be big spoon, right?"

Castiel smacked at him again. "Shut up."

"Stop slapping me."

"Then shut up."

"No."

Castiel groaned and rolled over knocking Dean on his back to give him space to lay on his side while still keeping close to Dean, who was grinning like a bitch. He draped his arm over him. "Well now I on top."

"Oh, hey," Dean whined, managing to get his arm around Castiel. "That's not what I meant when I was talking about me being big spoon. I mean, let's be real. We both know I'll never be the dominant one."

"Never," Castiel agreed.

"But that doesn't mean I can't hold you, and you can't enjoy being held. I mean, fuck. It feels really good."

"No it not."

"You were sleeping like a baby in my arms," Dean responded, tugging Castiel closer. "Don't lie. It's okay to like it."

Castiel groaned and smacked his head against the top of Dean's shoulder, trying to get comfortable as he cuddled in to him more. "You such a little bitch."

Dean barked out a laugh, unable to believe what he'd just said. "Are you serious? Did you really just say that?"

"Well, it true. Now please can sleep?"

"Only if you let me spoon you."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please."

"Niet."

Dean froze for a second. "I don't know the Russian word for please…"

Castiel sighed. "Why you want to spoon me?"

"Because it feels really good for me to hold you like that, and we both had such a stressful night, and I think you secretly like the relief of being held, you just won't admit it. So just roll over and let me put my dick against your perfect little ass and sleep with you."

A laugh. "You think my ass perfect?"

"You know that I do."

Castiel seemed to contemplate his options for a minute, weighing whether he wanted to roll over or not, but he finally did. He moved his head from Dean's shoulder to the pillow, nestling his head down on it with his arm up underneath it. He tucked his legs up a bit, and Dean took that as an invitation to curl in to him, his arm raising up under his head to hold Castiel's hand, his other one draping over his waist as he pressed close to him, rutting his hips against his ass for a few seconds as he made himself comfortable.

He kissed behind Castiel's ear, the hand over his his waist curling down so his fingers brushed against his stomach. Castiel's body was hot against his own, but he longed to have him closer. He kissed his neck. "We should have sex when we wake up again."

"Why not now?" Castiel asked, willing Dean to kiss him again.

"Aren't you tired?" Dean flattened his hand against Castiel's stomach, kissing his neck again, brushing his nose through his hair.

"Aren't you?"

"Hell yeah. But I'd do anything to make you happy."

Castiel lay still, watching the pillow in front of him. He moved his hand down to Dean's, which was over his stomach. He laced their fingers, and continued to lay in the silence until Dean's breath was beginning to even out. "Why?" he finally asked.

"Why what?" Dean's voice was low and scratchy, but he still responded.

"Why you do anything?"

"Huh?"

"To make me happy."

Dean took a sleep-deep breath. "Why  _would_  I do anything to make you happy? Or why do I do anything for you at all?"

Castiel thought for a minute, playing with Dean's fingers over his stomach. "Both."

Dean stretched and snuggled closer to Castiel, pressing his hand tighter against his stomach. "The answer's pretty much the same. It's because…." He swallowed. "It's because you're my… baby. My boyfriend. My Cas. Mine."

"…So-"

"-So I try to make and keep you happy because you're mine and I care for you a lot, and I probably need to stop before I say something I regret." He kissed Castiel's ear, nibbling down the side of it. He smiled and kissed the back of his neck. "So, what would make you happy?"

"Right now?"

"Right now."

Castiel played with Dean's fingers again, and Dean relaxed, letting him do as he pleased. He spoke a few minutes later, quiet and so unlike himself, his voice soft. "I like be home, with you in bed, little sweaty after sex, listening to favorite songs. I hear you sing in shower, and I like to think you sing to me too. Maybe some day."

"Cas? Look at me?"

"You just got me to spoon. You not going to get it again."

"Please look at me."

Castiel groaned, relinquishing Dean's hand back to him as he rolled over, looking at him. Dean smiled and hooked his fingers under Castiel's jaw, holding it while he leaned in to kiss him, locking their lips together. It felt good, and right, and so so nice to be as close to Castiel as he was, feeling the heat come off of his body and warm him.

"You want to know something?" he asked as he broke the kiss, moving in to rest his cheek on Castiel's. He could feel his stubble scratching his skin, but he liked it.

"What?"

"You're crazy. And your family is crazy. And everything that happens when I'm around you is crazy. But you make me feel safe." Castiel scoffed, and Dean pulled back. "No, really. It sounds insane, but you do. You're so strong, and powerful… I'm in awe of you. You know those guys that were chasing us last night? Do you know how terrified I was? But you were  _mostly_ calm, and collected, and god… If you hadn't have been there, I'd be dead right now."

"You not be in situation if I not there."

"You don't know that." Castiel yawned, and Dean kissed him quickly. "Let's go to sleep? Okay?"

"I want go home."

"Me too."

" _Home_ home, or… my home?"

Dean cupped Castiel's cheek. "Aren't they the same thing?" Castiel just stared at him, and Dean sighed, rolling back and sitting up, resting against the headboard as he rubbed his neck. "We're not going to sleep, are we?"

"No." Castiel hadn't moved, other than scooting closer to rest his head on Dean's thigh.

"Great. You wanna watch a movie, or something? Try to go back home?"

"Movie, yes. Home, no."

"Why not home?"

"Father hasn't said it safe."

Right. Murderers. Looking for them. "Okay. Movie time."

There wasn't much in terms of films, a lot of them older and on VHS. There were a few newer DVDs, and Dean popped one of the in the television, turning back to sit on the couch in a room across from the bedroom. There were no windows in it, similar to the bedroom, but it certainly felt more open.

They had put back on their clothes, and Castiel had been in the kitchen, looking for food, but all he found were fruit snacks and cereal, though there was no milk, so the later was rather useless. He came back with the little he scrounged up, and sat on the couch beside Dean, handing him one of the packs.

"Fruit snacks. Yum."

"Damn right, yum," Dean responded, opening the pack. They really hadn't eaten a lot at dinner the night before, and he hadn't realized how hungry he was until he had food in front of his face.

They spent all day on the couch, Castiel repeatedly checking his phone until he got a message from his father. "Liberation."

Dean looked up at Castiel, who he was leaning against. "What?"

"It safe word. We can go home."

"We can?"

"Well, when the driver get here."

"Driver?"

Castiel shrugged his shoulders, and Dean sat up. "Can't drive car we have. They recognize it. Also broken glass."

"So how long will it be?"

Castiel shrugged. "A while."

Dean grinned and pulled back from Castiel, turning and moving to sit on his lap, legs on either side of his thighs. "I have a few ideas of what we can do." He leaned in and kissed Castiel, running one of his hands down his abdomen, stopping at the bend in his hips to hook his fingers over the waistband of his pants. "You know, to pass the time."

"Dean," Castiel whined, tipping his head back. He sounded tired. Dean kissed his now exposed neck.

"You feel stressed Cas, so tense…" He pulled back from his neck and kissed him solidly on the lips again, sliding back on his thighs to unbutton his pants. "Let me take care of you…" he hooked his fingers under his pants again, pulling them down and over his ass as he stood, lowering himself to his knees on the floor, pulling Castiel forward to the edge of the couch.

He pushed his pants down to the ground, and nudged his legs apart at the knees, and that's when Castiel stopped him, placing a hand in his hair. "Dean, no."

"Why not?" Dean looked up at him with the best puppy eyes he could muster, leaning forward to rest his head on Castiel's thigh, rubbing his hand over the other one. "I'd make you feel so good, baby."

"Baby?"

Dean kissed his thigh. "You are my baby." Dean was muttering his words like he was a sleepy drunk, his lips pressing lazy kisses over the soft skin of his thigh. He just continued to kiss him, unable to stop. "My sexy Cas."

Castiel let his fingers roam through Dean's hair. "You horny?"

"A bit."

Dean nipped at Castiel's thigh when Castiel tugged his hair. "Driver going to be here soon. You want them see this?"

"I don't care." Dean looked up at Castiel, his eyes wide. "I just want you."

Castiel moved his hand from Dean's hair down the side of his face, under his chin to tilt it up. "Come here."

Dean pouted but climbed up off of the floor and on to Castiel, sitting on his lap, his hands on his shoulders, thumbs rubbing his neck. "Yeah?"

Castiel kissed him. "Tell you what. We get home safe and alive, and we fuck all night long. Okay?"

"You mean it?"

"Oh yes," Castiel muttered against Dean's lips, kissing him again. He smiled and kissed him once more, and time and time after that, claiming Dean as his own.

They made out like teenagers until Castiel's phone buzzed. Mychalla had texted him, and he laughed. "Almost wish we did fuck. Though he probably not be surprised…"

"He's used to it," Dean agreed, remembering all of the times they had cuddled in the back seats or ran around the half naked, trying to find another place to fuck. It never ended for them. Dean hoped it never would.

They sat together on the nearly silent ride home, and Dean wondered what would happen to the car they had left behind. Maybe it'd never be touched and grow old and rust over, and they'd go back one day, hopefully when they no longer have to worry about being murdered, and remember it all, their adventures and their time together.

Dean reached out for Castiel's hand, and didn't let it go until they were home, and safely inside and upstairs. Viktor was in the middle of a call, and they'd have to go down to see him later, talk about what had happened, but for now they were alone. They had entered Castiel's room and shut the door behind them. Castiel immediately wrapped him in a hug, pulling him close, nuzzling his head against Dean's neck.

"I was scared," he admitted, and Dean was surprised. "For you. I mean… I not want you get hurt, and I know you my guard, so you  _supposed_ to get hurt…" He took a deep breath and let it out. "I grow up in this. You not. You did so good…"

Dean flattened his hands on the small of Castiel's back, holding him solidly. "I couldn't have made it without you. I'd be dead without you."

Castiel just held him a bit longer, and Dean reveled in his arms. He kissed his neck, and Dean knew where this was going to be headed.

It wasn't until after they had sex, splayed out on Castiel's bed, Dean's head on his chest, Castiel's arm around him, did they realize they were exhausted, and that they didn't want to move. Whether it was because they were so close to each other, or because they finally had the chance to relax, they didn't know.

Dean zoned out. Castiel had one of his hands rubbing lightly on Dean's arm that was draped over his chest, the other hand arched with his fingers on the back of his neck, moving up into his hair, and back down his skin, giving Dean goosebumps.

He rolled his eyes up to look at Castiel, who's heavily lidded eyes were watching him back, looking blissed out and completely relaxed. Dean wanted to kiss him, and hold him, and never let go of him, and love him. And love him.

Dean blinked up at Castiel slowly, and realized that whether he wanted to hear it or not, he couldn't hold it back anymore. He knew how much it could fuck everything up, but it was worth it. He needed to say it. He needed to get it out.

"I love you."

Castiel was frozen. He didn't move. He didn't breath. He didn't blink. His lips barely moved at all and his voice came out low and quiet. "What?"

Dean could take it back. He could retract it and say it just came out because he was so happy, and they was the truth, but then it'd make it seem like it a spur of the moment thing, as if he'd never thought about it when it had actually been on his mind for the longest time.

He swallowed. "I love you."

Castiel still hadn't moved and his voice sounded the same. "No."

"Yes."

"You can't."

"What do you mean I can't?" Dean didn't want to move. He was afraid if he did, he'd never get to lay back down with Castiel, feel him beneath his skin, kiss him again.

"You so fucking stupid."

"What? Why? Because I love you? Because this was just supposed to be a nothing-but-sex sort of relationship, and I just went and fucked that up by not trying to box my feelings in like you do? God, Cas…"

"This is…" Castiel sat up, and Dean new he was going to try and leave and he wouldn't allow it. He sat up as well and climbed onto his lap. Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Off."

"No."

"Yes."

"No." Dean kissed him, and as hard as Castiel tried to ignore it, he pressed back just a little bit. He wasn't totally lost. "I'm not going anywhere until I know we're okay, and that you accept what I said."

"I not going to accept it. You an idiot."

"Why?"

"You are."

"Why?"

"You know why."

"No I don't."

Castiel groaned and slammed his head back against his bed. "Fuck, Dean. This worst lifestyle to have attachments in. That why I not want anything with you. You know why my parents not together? Why mother might be dead, for all I know? Because this life. It awful. You can't be attached, because it always break you in the end." Castiel shoved Dean off of his lap, but not hard, and laid down on the bed, facing Dean.

Dean slid down and laid on his side, looking at Castiel. "Are you afraid I'll get hurt?"

"I know that you will."

"And I'm willing to risk that."

"Why? Do know the pain you go through?"

"Because I care about you more than anything in the world." Dean reached up to cup Castiel's cheek, and he looked uncomfortable with the sentiment, but Dean didn't back down. "I don't know when it happened, and I don't know why, but I know I want you and that I can't lose you, and that I love you."

"This a bad idea."

"I don't care."

Castiel sighed and seemed to remember how tired he was. He closed his eyes. "I hope you know what you getting in to. I hope you know the pain you'll feel."

Dean watched him, roving his eyes over Castiel's face, rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone before moving his hand down to his hip. He scooted closer to Castiel, tangling their legs together. Castiel didn't respond, but he didn't fight it.

Dean kissed him, and his lips tingled, and it dawned on him that Castiel was right. One of them was bound to die and the other would be left alone and cold and lost, but if it had to happen with somebody, Dean was overjoyed that it was with Castiel.

He looked over his face once more with soft eyes, and squeezed his hand on his hip, letting his eyes drift shut.

"You're worth it. You're worth every bit of pain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will probably groan and want to murder me for saying this, but my summer looks busier than ever, and I'm still in a writers block for this story. I don't know why I can't finish this. Maybe it's because I know how I want it to end, but in reality, I don't /want/ it to end.
> 
> So, it may be a while before another mediocre update. I'm so sorry. Thank you for reading, regardless.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***SPOILER ALERT*** death in this chapter. if you're worried about it, message me and i'll tell you what happens. it'll be more fun to read, though ***SPOILER ALERT***

They had woken up, Dean had taken Castiel's hand, and they showered together before going down to Viktor to discuss the events of the days before.

"We need to attack," he said bluntly, unabashed by the fact that his son had almost been murdered. It's as if he had expected him to come out of it unscathed.

"What you mean?"

"I mean get rid of those assholes for good."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You mean… murder them?"

"Not murder if you not get caught."

"I don't think it works like that."

Viktor glared at him, and Dean sucked his lips between his teeth, resigning to silence while Castiel and Viktor deuced it out.

"How we supposed to do that? We try to attack them before, and we never get far."

"I have idea."

Castiel continued to stare at his father, waiting for some a response, his eyes burning him for some sort of explanation. "You going to say something?"

Viktor slid a card across his desk. "Remember guy you kill at restaurant? Access card."

Castiel's eyes enlarged and he reached forward, grabbing the plastic card with a bar to be scanned or swiped, a photograph, and his name. "Won't it be expired? De.. Dis…"

"Deactivated?" Dean supplied, and Castiel reached out to hold his hand.

"Yes. Deactivated."

"That why we need to move fast. Tonight."

Castiel froze, his hand stiffening in Dean's. "Tonight?"

"Yes."

"But this so dangerous. I can't say goodbye or do all I ever want to or-"

"-You not going to die," Viktor interjected.

"You not know that."

"You have Dean to protect you."

Dean was watching Castiel, the terror he tried to hide, and did so miraculously well. His eyes grew but he watched his father with a solid and hard stare. Stoic. Like a soldier. He wanted to loosen him up, take off his uniform once and for all.

"I not want Dean hurt."

Viktor said nothing, just looked at his son. "We leave tonight. Midnight."

They were set free, and Castiel immediately led them up to Dean's room, slamming the door before moving to his closet, taking his clothes out and throwing them on his bed in a frantic rush. Dean watched him as he dove back in, coming out with a duffle bag. He began shoving clothes into the bag. "You need go. You need go now. If you leave soon, you not have to come. You go home and be safe."

Dean stepped to him, gently putting his hands on his hips. "Castiel?"

"What?" He was still shoving clothes haphazardly into the bag.

"Castiel," he repeated, moving to press his body flat behind Castiel, sliding his hands from his hips to his arms, down to his wrists where he crossed his arms, hugging Castiel and barring him back from moving.

"Dean," Castiel whined, pushing away from Dean, whirling around on him. "You not understand. You need to go."

"Why?"

Castiel shoved passed him to get to the closet, grabbing another stack of shirts that he dropped on Dean's bed. "Because I not let you get hurt."

"That's not your choice to make."

"Yes it is." Dean reached out to touch Castiel, who whipped around with a shirt still in his hand. "You need to go."

Dean was staring at the shirt in Castiel's hand, formulating his words. He stepped forward after a moment, reaching for Castiel's hand, grasping it and raising it, forcing Castiel to look at the shirt.

Castiel's lips parted open. "This has blood."

Dean nodded. "It's the first shirt I ever saw you in."

"You saved it?"

"The maid put it in with my clothes by accident, and I kept it because I'll never forget how you looked that day, when you walked me upstairs to my room, and just looked at me, and I knew that I had never seen someone I was so attracted to, even when I was terrified that I would be stuck here forever. But you know what, it doesn't bother me anymore."

Dean took the shirt from Castiel, reaching for his hand again as he held the shirt close to him. "I slept with this when we first started having sex. I… I wanted you with me, but this was all I could have. Cas, You think that me loving you is the most idiotic thing I've ever done, and you're probably right, but it goes so much deeper than just thinking you're hot."

"So what this about?"

Dean stepped in, cupping Castiel's cheek. "It goes so deep that I can't bear the thought of you dying while I did nothing about it. I can't bear the thought of being  _away_ from you. So I'm coming with you." Dean looked over Castiel's shoulder. "Or you're coming with me." He kissed him, and Castiel reached up to grab Dean's face, refusing to let him pull away as they kissed. He pressed himself closer to Dean, whimpering until he pulled away.

"You sure? You sure you want stay?"

"I'm not going anywhere without you."

Castiel kissed him. He pressed close, and when it became not enough, he jumped up, wrapping his legs around Dean's waist. Dean caught him, his hands going under his ass to keep him up while Castiel rolled his tongue into Dean's mouth.

Dean moaned and realized that he wanted Castiel more than anything, and that right now could possibly be their last time together. He moved to his bed, lowering Castiel to it without breaking their lips apart. Castiel kicked the duffle bag off the bed, and Dean knew their thoughts were the same.

He rolled their bodies over, so that Castiel was on the top, and they finally broke apart. Dean's pupils were blown and his lips were bruised. "One last time?"

Castiel nodded and kissed him.

They were slow, for once. They took their time, kissing over every inch of each other's bodies, savoring the soft and smooth skin, and every little knick or scratch or bump, every breathy call of their name and soft moans.

They didn't want it to end. It  _couldn't_ end, because once it was over, that was it.

When they finally finished, Castiel fell down on top of Dean, wrapping his arms around his ribs, resting his head in the curve of Dean's neck.

"I love you," Dean said, and Castiel could feel his throat moving and his vocal chords vibrating and the warm tone of his voice resonating through him, giving him goosebumps as Dean rubbed his arm. "I love you so much."

"I know."

Dean was surprised that Castiel didn't fight it, that he didn't stiffen in his arms or reject the idea right away. He watched Castiel until he moved his head away to look at Dean, their eyes locking.

Castiel's eyes were soft and scared and he looked so utterly human. He wasn't stoic, he wasn't hiding his feelings, and Dean knew that he only had two more hours of him like this until he hardened again, turning into the soldier his father moulded him to be.

The time passed too fast, and soon they were pulling apart to get dressed. Castiel put on the shirt Dean had kept, bloodstains on the soft grey. Once Dean was clothed, they went to Castiel's room, where he put on jeans and his favorite shoes before grabbing the jewelry he had on the first day they had met.

"Why the rings?"

"They deserve to know who killing them."

"And the rings show that?"

"Family rings. Everyone know our rings."

Castiel looked like a teenager again. He was nearly irresistible, but Dean knew there was nothing he could do to him besides taking his face in his hands, kissing him softly. And he did just that.

He pulled away with lidded eyes, watching Castiel who watched him back. They stood there in silence, sharing unspoken words until they couldn't stay any longer, and had to leave."

Dean kept his arm wrapped around Castiel, who refused to leave Dean's side.

They held hands in the car while Viktor ran the through the plan. Dean wanted to ignore him and just focus on Castiel, but he knew that if he did then the chances of them dying was even higher than it already was. There were guns piled high in the back of the car, along with another SUV following behind them, filled with allies of the Novak family who volunteered to fight.

When they pulled up outside of the Matveev's mansion, bordered by a giant fence, Mychalla ran the stolen card through the card reader, praying that it would still work, that the family hadn't deactivated the dean man's ID.

The green light beeped and the gates parted open. The two SUVs drove through fast to ensure they both got in.

Dean looked back to watch the gates shut, and realized that there was no going back.

He squeezed Castiel's hand.

The road up to their house was long, and they had to get ready to jump out of the cars immediately. They had distributed guns and ammo, and sat quietly as they followed the darkened road.

Viktor turned around, looking at his son. "Castiel."

Castiel looked up. "Yes?"

"I love you, son." He swallowed, contemplating what to say. "You know, when you born, you the most gorgeous baby. I held you and you stare at me with your eyes as bright and big as the sky, and I've loved you ever since."

"I love you too, father." It appeared that the severity of this situation was dawning on Castiel, and Dean reached over, squeezing his hand.

Castiel squeezed back hard.

When the house was in sight, Dean leaned forward and kissed Castiel. Viktor saw, but didn't say anything. Dean tried to get out all of his emotions and feelings and let Castiel know before it was too late.

They broke away when the car stoped, and shared a lingering glance before hopping out of opposite sides of the car.

Mychalla popped the trunk to allow the SUV behind them to have their share of weapons, and then they were running to the front of the house, up the stairway. The large maple double doors were unlocked and they ran in to be faced with a large foyer. It was huge with sweeping stairways up either side of it.

Two men came out of a hallway, running down it. They looked like guards. Dean assumed the Novak's had some too, but he had never seen them.

They began to shoot, and Dean knew the game was on.

The two men were taken out easily, one of the men from the other SUV shot one, and Mychalla had the other while following behind Viktor, who was moving to scout out the other hallways. Dean followed Castiel, and the other men split into groups. They each took their own hallway, roaming down them, checking each room and nook for others who could attack them.

There was a man at the end of the hallway who Castiel shot while Dean busted into one of the side rooms. It was a bedroom, and there was a body in the bed. He aimed his gun at it, but Castiel beat him to shooting it.

"There no time to hesitate," Castiel said, working his way back up the hallway. Dean looked at the mass on the bed, hoping that whoever it was died painlessly before he followed after his boyfriend.

There were more dead bodies in the foyer, one of a man from the other SUV, the rest from the guards trying to defend the enemy.

The eight of them congregated in the center, standing in pooled blood and dead bodies. "We lost Mish," one of the nameless men said.

"He died fighting," Viktor concluded. He pointed at groups, sending them off to different locations until he was down to Castiel. He hugged him tight, kissed his cheek, and sent him and Dean off to a back room while he and Mychalla went upstairs.

The room they went into directly under the stairs was lit with dim lights, as if they'd walked into a restaurant set up for a romantic night out. There wasn't much in the room, but it looked like Viktor's office where he worked. They searched through every nook and toppled dressers and organizers looking for anything or anyone.

They found nothing.

Castiel grabbed a handful of papers and brought them up, then took a lighter out of his back pocket.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Castiel moved the lighter to the base of the pages and flicked the wheel. "Burning this place to the ground." The papers ignited, and he waited until they were burning bright to throw them back over his shoulder onto the flipped-over desk and spilled papers.

The pile began to burn and Castiel walked out of the room. Dean followed after him, still in shock at what he had done, but it was nothing compared to what was going on in the main area.

The Matveev's had half as many kids as the Novak's, and two of them were dead, one at the base of the stairs with a snapped neck, and the other in the middle, bleeding, creating waterfall down the steps. Two more of their own men had been killed as well.

Viktor and Mychalla were at the top of the arching stairwell, fighting two men. One was a guard, and the other looked to be a father himself. Dean wondered if he was the master of the house, Viktor's main rival. This was like a shitty and predictable horror movie, but it was real life.

The guard had been kicked by Mychalla so that he could help Viktor fight the other, but the man had slid over to the dead body on the stairs, and was able to grab his gun.

He got up and ran toward the duo, aiming to shoot Viktor. Mychalla saw and jumped in front of him, taking the bullet right through his neck. He yelled for a second then his eyes went black and he stumbled back, flipping over the edge of the bannister, falling to the ground as dead as he could be.

Viktor shouted and charged the man with the gun after kicking the father of the family to the ground, and knocked the gun out of his hand while the other stood in a stupor. He grabbed his head and snapped his neck and tossed him over the bannister. He shot the father the moment he stood.

Dean couldn't believe what he saw, how Viktor was so remorseless, but when he saw Mychalla's dead body, he realized the pain he must have been feeling. There was blood pooling around the man who had taught him how to fight and run and be a warrior. That dead man had given him so much, and probably so much more to Viktor. Dean had no idea how he could remain so stoic and steady.

A guard came rushing out of the side room, one that had been in the SUV behind them. "Mother is dead."

"Good," Viktor replied, beginning to walk to the set of double doors upstairs. "I think that all, but we going to check it out."

Castiel and Dean nodded as they watched Viktor and the other man walk away, and turned to each other immediately once they were gone. Dean pulled Castiel into a hug, and kissed his neck. "We made it."

"I know."

Dean pulled away and smiled, and Castiel smiled back. Dean watched him with joyous eyes because they had both made it, had both survived. All of the hype before had been for nothing because they'd walk out of this house hand in hand and Dean would continue to love Castiel for as long as he could and it'd be perfect, and they'd be happy.

Castiel's eyes began to widen and Dean knew something was wrong. Time slowed down and everything moved slowly. Castiel's hand moved forward to grasp Dean's bicep, and Dean could feel a gentle squeeze before he was thrown to the side and down to the ground where he slid across the room over the blood slicked floor.

There was a shot and within a second Castiel was falling backwards, dropping his gun to the ground. Dean screamed and tried to scramble to his knees, sliding on the floor until he got to Castiel's gun, immediately pointing it at the perpetrator and shooting. He shot once, twice, three, four times, shooting twice more once the man was on the ground. It was Ivan Matveev. The last one. He looked over his body, watching the blood leak out from under him. He deserved it. Castiel didn't.

Dean's legs went numb when he remembered Castiel and he tossed the gun to the floor and rushed to Castiel dropping to his knees beside him. "Cas? Castiel? Cas!" Castiel coughed, and Dean reached out to grab his hand. "Cas, oh god."

Castiel's eyes were dull, so much more dull than Dean had ever seen him, and he wished he had never seen them this way, wanting to remember his prefect and bright blues. "I not feel anything."

Dean squeezed his hand, trying not to think the worst, trying to remain strong for him. "It's okay, just keep your eyes open. Focus on me. Focus on my hand."

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, obviously trying to hold something back. "Dean," he breathed. "I going to die."

Dean didn't want to hear it. He couldn't hear it. He  _wouldn't_ hear it. He felt the pressure behind his eyes build at just the thought and how sure Castiel seemed. He swallowed, trying to keep the tears at bay. "No, Cas. No you're not."

"Don't lie to me."

Castiel's breathing was growing sharp and raspy and his skin was pasty instead of tanned and the grey shirt covering his body now had a hole torn through it and was soaked with blood. Dean put his hand over the wound, pressing down. "I'm not lying." He could barely hold back tears now and his voice cracked when he spoke. "I'm not."

Viktor and Mychalla came out of the back room. "There no one lef-" Viktor froze. "Castiel!?" He seemed to find his legs again and was sprinting down the stairs. He was within ten feet when Castiel weakly held up his hand, letting it quiver in the air for a few seconds before it fell back down. Viktor stopped. He understood.

"Dean. Give me father."

Viktor heard and approached the two of them cautiously, not even bothering to hide his emotions. He collapsed to his knees. "My son," he whispered, reaching forward to cup his cheek, feeling his blood-damp hair. "My boy."

Castiel reached up to cover his father's hand. "Father."

Tears rolled from Viktor's eyes. "I love you, son. More than anything."

Castiel blinked and he showed the first sign of any fear. "I love you too."

Viktor seemed to try and resign himself and accept what was happening, but he snapped out of it. "Come on. We can get you to hospital. Save you. We ca-"

"No."

Viktor swallowed. "Why?"

"Give me Dean."

His father's hand wavered on his cheek and in his hair, trying to absorb each and every thing about his son while he was alive and breathing, knowing that he'd never see his eyes again or feel his presence in his office while he worked.

He flashed back to all of those days when Castiel, just a few years old, would run into his office and hide beneath his desk, climb on his lap, and shuffle his papers around. He'd crawl on the floor and play with toy cars in the room with him, just to be around his father, and when he got older he worked along side him, just to never loose contact. He'd never have one of those days again, he'd never have those memories come flashing back to him by just looking at his son and seeing those devilish eyes and that knowing smirk.

His tears began to roll freely and he refused to hold it back. "Goodbye, Castiel." He removed his hand, and Dean shifted closer to Castiel, who looked more pale than he had before. This was the end. He was coming close. Even if they rushed him to the hospital, he'd never make it.

Dean breathed deeply, shakily. "Hey Cas."

"Dean." He reached for Dean's hand, which was given willingly. His skin was cold. He brought their linked hands up to his cheek, feeling Dean's skin against his own. He closed his eyes and leaned into his warm touch. "Dean…"

Dean shifted closer, and Castiel rolled a bit towards him. Dean understood, and he reached over Castiel, pulling him closer and then up on his lap. Castiel whined and squeezed his eyes shut tight, but he was where he wanted to be.

"I love you, Castiel," Dean said, trying not to whisper, but not wanting his voice to crack again. He wanted to be strong for Castiel. "I do. So much. I wish I would have told you sooner."

"I know. I…" Castiel coughed and whined and writhed in Dean's arms, trying to get closer to him. Dean moved to have one arm around his waist and one hand on his cheek.

"It's okay, Cas. It's okay."

Dean's voice was dampened and his eyes were filled with tears, and he couldn't hold all of them back. A few ran down his cheeks, and Castiel reached up to wipe a few away. "Please don't cry."

"How can you expect me not to?" He rolled his eyes up to try and stop his tears, but it just made them fall faster.

"If you love m-" he coughed. "Me, you won't."

Dean exhaled shakily. "You were right. I'm a goddamn idiot. I shouldn't have fallen in love with you. The pain…" He took a deep breath, cut off by a sob. "I'm an idiot."

"I guess that make me idiot too."

Dean snapped his eyes to Castiel's, who's dull shade were looking right back at him. "Wait. You…"

Castiel nodded. "I do." He breathed in and it was garbled. "I do."

Dean bit the inside of his lip, unable to believe what he was hearing. He whined when Castiel pulled his hand away, but watched curiously as he reached for one of the rings on his hand, struggling to pull it off. He grabbed Dean's hand when it was off, and pushed it onto his fourth finger.

"I'm ready," he said. "To die. I'm ready to go."

Castiel was shaking as if he'd just bathed in ice and Dean knew he didn't have much longer. He leaned in pressing their lips together gently. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you all you ever wanted. I'm sorry I never sang to you as we fell asleep. I'm… I'm sorry." He kissed him again. "I love you."

He kissed him one last time, leaving his lips on Castiel's until he felt the weak pressure from the other slowly diminish until his lips were dead beneath him, and his lungs no longer filled with air and his eyes were shut and the blue would never shine again.

Dean broke down. He began to sob as tears streamed down his face and his body shook and it felt like he couldn't even breathe.

No one moved. No one said anything. Dean's world faded to nothing and he was terrified that the color would never come back and that his lungs would never fill again. He had lost him. Castiel was gone, his shirt was soaked in blood, and Dean couldn't feel.

"What smells like smoke."

"Cas lit the room on fire," Dean muttered, then realized they had to go. He tried to get up but his knees were weak and he wouldn't let go of Castiel's body. His body was still wracked with sobs and he hiccuped every few seconds. Viktor helped him to his feet, and Dean kept Castiel in his arms bridal style, refusing to put him down, even once they were in the car. He had his arms wrapped around him and his head bowed down, their foreheads touching as Dean cried, as if he thought his tears would bring life back to Castiel.

"It should have been me," Dean squeaked out. "It should have been me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter, hopefully within the next few days or this week


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is.

 The grass was bright green and the flowers glowed in the sun and the tombstone reflected white, but they were dark, left in the shade of Castiel's death.

Viktor and Dean stood beside the grave. Alona and the other sisters had left once the tears began to fall. They couldn't stand to look at what once was. But Viktor and Dean stood strong.

"He pushed me out of the way," Dean finally said when he felt like his voice could handle speaking. A few more tears fell.

Viktor nodded. "I know." They were quiet again for a few minutes. "He love you, you know that?"

Dean nodded. "He told me."

"No, he love you since I made you sell drugs. I could tell. When I try pull him away when you two making out, and he latch on to you… I knew. That's a deep love, for him to go against me. He never had before… He really loved you."

"Then why did he act like me loving him was such a big deal?"

"Because it was." Viktor finally looked at Dean, who was looking down at his hand. The ring was still on there. He refused to take it off. "Love is the most stupid thing you can do in this life. He not want to see you get hurt."

"And what about him?" Dean asked, looking up at Viktor. "I don't want him to hurt. What if I had been shot, and you were at my funeral right now?"

"Castiel would be the same. But not openly. He'd hide it. He'd curl up in his room and sob for days and never say a word about it, because he strong and refuse to show weakness."

"Love isn't a weakness."

"Yes it is. But it a weakness that you have to be willing to have."

"I'm weak. I'm the weakest man I know." Dean swallowed and sucked in a shaky breath. "I loved him so much. I still do. I love him." He cleared his throat and wiped away a few tears.

Dean turned back to look at the grave, and Viktor placed a hand on his back. "I give you some time." He rubbed his shoulders for a second, and then walked away, back toward the house.

Dean dropped to his knees. He shuffled closer to the headstone, and placed his hand on it. "I love you, Castiel."

He bit his lip, thinking. "Why did you push me out of the way? Why did you save me? Did you know how much this would hurt me?" He scoffed. "Of course you did. You know this life better than I do. Is it because you think I'm stronger? That I'd handle it better than you?" He sat down, leaning his head on the stone, pretending that it was Castiel's side. "Of course you didn't. You knew how weak I was. You were giving me a way out, weren't you? You brought me here, and then you were trying to set me free." He sighed. "I wish you wouldn't have."

He rested on the headstone for what seemed like forever, until he grew cold and his back was sore. He sat up, pushing himself back to his knees directly in front of the new marble. "Your dad told me I could stay in the house, that I could continue with this life, but… But I don't think I can. I love this place." He looked up to the sky and then around the enormous yard, all of the trees and bushes and rows of flowers. He'd kissed Castiel under one of the blossoming trees on the other side of the yard, the bright petals above them as they sat outside. He had been so happy in that moment, so in love.

He looked back to the stone. "But I can't stay here. Just the thought of walking passed your room every day, remembering everything that happened in there, how happy I was with you… In a few years, I'll be able to look back on those moments and smile and not cry, but for now, it's too painful. I'll never forget our time together, Castiel, I promise." He ran his hand over the stone, then leaned in, pressing his lips to the top.

He held his lips there, flashing through every moment and memory with Castiel. Every kiss, every laugh, every accidental brush of their hands, and every purposeful one. All of the nights they had spent together, wrapped in each other's arms, the stories they had shared and the fights that followed.

He pulled away from the tombstone, eyes wet. "I love you. I always will."

He took a shaky breath, spending another moment on the ground before he pushed himself up, running his fingers over the stone one last time as he walked back toward the house.

Dean let himself in and walked up the stairs, taking in every hallway and room, each place where he and Castiel couldn't resist each other and slammed up against the wall to make out, or snuck into a room because they didn't have the patience to walk all the way upstairs. He passed Alona's hallway, remembering breaking her door open, and Rachel's room, where she had kissed him.

He proceeded up the final set of stairs, stopping at the start of their hallway with only two rooms; one Dean's, one Castiel's. He didn't want to walk down it. He didn't want to go into his room and not have Castiel follow in after him and grab him from behind or lay with him in bed just to relax for a while by themselves.

He walked down the hallway, stretching his arms out to run his fingers along the solid walls. He went into his room and packed a bag of clothes, taking the nice shoes and jeans and shirts that Castiel had bought him. He opened his drawers, shuffling through them and pulling out what he wanted until his fingers hit silk. He pulled out what he was touching and laughed. Panties. He put them in his bag, smiling at that second day they had been together, when Castiel came onto him and was way more forward with him than Dean had ever experienced with another man.

He was packed. He was done. He looked around the room once last time before walking out, turning to shut the door behind him. He took a breath and turned around, but he couldn't move. Castiel's room.

He wanted to resist, he wanted to stay back, but he had to go in. He had to be around Castiel again.

He walked in.

The room seemed so much more empty than Dean remembered it. There wasn't life in there, there wasn't warmth. He dropped his bag and walked forward slowly. He passed the vanity, running his hand over the polished wood. There were picture frames, and Dean looked at what was enclosed in them. Castiel was young, about 16, and so gorgeous.

Dean looked away and walked across the room to Castiel's desk. His laptop was there, and Dean sat down in the chair, opening it. He laughed when there wasn't a password and his desktop popped up. His background was of Dean with his eyes crossed and a flower in his mouth. Dean remembered that day.

They had gone outside to enjoy the warm sun and each other's company. There was a tree they sat under that was blossoming and surrounded by large bushes with flowers jutting out of them. Castiel was upset at sitting in such a frilly area, and Dean tried to loosen him up by ripping a flower out and making a funny face. Castiel had taken a picture of it, but Dean didn't know he had it here.

He had very little on his desktop, and Dean didn't want to take advantage of him not being there to investigate further, but a folder caught his eye. Dean. That's all it said.

He opened it.

Inside were a plethora of pictures of he and Dean together, of Dean doing something or giving Castiel a dirty look. Pictures Castiel had chosen to represent their relationship throughout their time together. There was a word document in there.

Dean's box.

Dean frowned and clicked it, waiting for the application to open and load the words. It was a typed out letter referring to a box. Dean didn't want to read much farther than the first line until he found the box.

He discovered it in Castiel's closet. It was on the top shelf in a neat and new-looking box. There was nothing on the exterior of it, but Dean still opened it. Inside was a letter placed neatly atop a stack of photographs and pressed flowers and ripped out pages from notebooks. Dean picked up the letter, moving it to the ground gently as he looked through the box.

Journal entries were scattered about the photographs and flowers. They spoke of their adventures from Castiel's perspective, how he felt about their first time together and their first kisses. The photographs went with the entries, a picture of Dean with flowers, or Castiel with trees, or Dean nearly naked in bed, bathed in sunlight after they'd been together. Dean didn't remember half of these pictures being taken, but he wasn't surprised. Castiel was so private and secretive.

The letter still sat by his side. He watched it wearily, knowing that this was the last attachment to Castiel he had, that this letter was for him and he'd never get another one like it. He could save it and preserve it, not read it for years when he knew he'd be okay and not so emotionally compromised.

But he  _had_  to read it. He  _had_  to look.

Dean looked at the front of the envelope, his name scratched in neatly on the front. He ran his fingertips over the indented letters, enjoying how pristine they were. He opened the letter, pulling the paper within out.

_Dean,_

_I typed this out on my computer just to make sure it'd make sense to you. I know I can't speak english good, and I can't spell it either, but I need you to read this._

_It's hard for me to tell you any of this, which is why I wrote this letter. If everything has gone as I hope it will, then I have given you this box and am sitting somewhere off to the side, watching you read this. I'm probably scared._

_Let me tell you about us, and then you can talk to me, okay? Just read this._

_I met you at a beach. You looked familiar and so attractive, but I couldn't do anything. I didn't want to kill you. I'm so glad you gave me a reason not to. You saved my life. I thought for sure I was going to die, with the water drowning me, but you came along. I'm sorry you had to almost get shot, and leave your sandals behind. They looked nice._

_When we took you out shopping, that's when I knew I wanted you. You had a body I needed, and I didn't want to stop at anything to get it. You were stubborn, but so was I, and the whole day, all I could think of was ripping those new clothes off of you and having what I wanted._

_When you finally said yes to me, and we had sex, I knew I was fucked. I could have just moved on, but you were so persistent in getting to know me, and force me to open up… I wanted sex and I knew that meant I'd have to deal with attachment. Fuck you, for that. This could have been a nothing relationship._

_But I'm glad you didn't stop. You stuck by me, and the first time we kissed… I didn't even know it at the time, but I was gone. There was no way I was coming back. I was in it now._

_I knew I loved you when I saw how you looked at me. Always. After I'd taken you down in training. After I'd shoved my face with food. After I threw up from getting way too drunk… It actually happened after we'd woken up one morning, and my face was red and I looked like shit. You kissed me and gave me a look like you wouldn't want to be with anybody else._

_And the drugs. You stuck by me through it, Dean. There's nothing more I could have asked for. No one would have done what you did. And you stuck by me through withdrawal, when I punched you and attacked you and tried to get out of the house for another hit. You just grabbed my arms and held me and wouldn't let me go. I wish I would have told you then that I loved you, but I was scared that it would make you stay if you wanted to leave. I knew that the life I live gets so much worse than doing drugs and recovering from them._

_You stayed anyway. I hope that you remember those times like I do. I'm writing this before our date, and hopefully I'll have something new to add to this box._

_The box is filled with things that remind me of you, that make me feel warm when I look at them. I hate feeling sentimental. It's so fucking stupid. But when it's for you, I can deal with it._

_If you're reading this, then there's a question I want to ask you when you turn around to face me, and I pray to god you'll say yes._

_I love you so much._

His name was signed at the bottom, but Dean's eyes were wet and he couldn't look at it for long.

He set the paper down, taking a few shaky breaths as he looked to his hand, the ring Castiel had placed on his finger the night he had died. Dean touched it and sucked his lips between his teeth, nodding to himself. He closed his eyes, letting his tears fall, knowing that what could have been would no longer be, and that'd he'd never have another chance at a life and love like this. He twisted the ring, nodding once more before opening his eyes and looking up, trying to pierce his gaze through the ceiling at whatever was watching him back. He smiled weakly.

"Yes. Of course it's yes."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. Exactly 11 months after I posted the first chapter, and I have tears in my eyes instead of celebrating its completion. Oh god, I didn't want to end it...
> 
> Regardless, it's over. Thank you for reading. It means the world to me that you've taken time to sit down and scan your eyes over every letter I've typed out. It's kind of a pain in the ass, I know, so thank you.
> 
> For those of you who have been here from the beginning, and those of you who have just started but have given me support in trying to finish this, just know that I adore each and every one of you. Your kind words helped me finish this. I don't know where'd I'd be without you.
> 
> So, one last time, please let me know what you think. Be it good, bad, or otherwise, I'd love to hear from you.
> 
> Thank you so much.

**Author's Note:**

> If you couldn't tell from reading, this story is going to be violent. Be prepared for anything pertaining to that and crime life, including substance abuse, physical abuse, and possibly even character death. I don't have this all planned out, so those are just a warning.
> 
> Updates will be sporadic, so feel free to ask me any questions you have on here via comments, or on my tumblr, squidstiel.tumblr.com
> 
> As this is a new story, please let me know what you think!


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